


The Ghost of You

by Cesela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Azkaban, F/M, M/M, Marauders, Talking To Dead People, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 62,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesela/pseuds/Cesela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James' spirit didn't disappear at once after his death. He stayed behind to make sure his family and friends were safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own.  
> Warning: Character death, one-sided Sirius/James. Don't like don't read  
> Sorry for all grammar mistakes. Not a native English speaker.  
> First published: 04-30-13

"We want you to be the secret-keeper."

James is smiling, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. It's clear that he is worried. You-know-who could come for the Potter family any day now. Come for his family. And as the head of the house, it's his responsibility to keep them safe. They are the last of the once and noble Potter-house. James parents died two years ago of old age. And his father's brother, Harold, died under the last Wizard war. So it's just James and Harry left with the Potter blood.

Sirius doesn't smile as James thought he would. He just sits there in the chair and looks out over city. It's a nice view. You can see much of London from here.

They are in Sirius apartment, it has a nice balcony, where they have spend much of their younger years having fun and drinking. They are still young though, barely 21. They shouldn't be thinking about death and fighting in wars. But that's just how things are. When they first started Aurora training they were thinking about the glory and the knowledge that they were fighting for something good. But the last three years have taught them otherwise. There is no glory in taking life, there is no right way to fight a war. War is brutal and terrifying. And they have spent many nights just lying in bed and hugging their loved ones. James spends more time then not holding around Lily while she cries, she is so worried what world their son, Harry, will grow up in.

James shifts slightly in his seat. Sirius is still not saying anything, he just sits there, chewing on his lip. He looks thoughtful, and James can't really read the expression Sirius has in his eyes.

"We want you to be the secret-keeper." James repeats, more quietly this time. He can't be hundred percent sure Sirius heard him the first time, but he is pretty sure he did. But he repeats it to get Sirius to snap out of his thought.

Sirius sighs and picks up his glass. "I can't." he mumbles.

James frowns, not sure he heard that right. Not really wanting it to be right.

"Can you repeat that?"

Sirius takes a sip and looks at him. "I can't, alright. I…" He looks away, and again James can't read his expression.

James sits up, and looks hard at him. "You what? Why don't want to keep me and my family safe? You want us to be taken by you-know-who and killed?!"

Sirius flinches and looks hurt at him.

"Of course not. You are like a family to me."

James feels a bit bad. Of course Sirius doesn't want them dead. But he doesn't understand why his best friend, his brother, won't do this.

"Then why?" James asks with a quiet tone.

Sirius shifts on his chair and bites his lip.

"Because… Because I'm the obvious choice. Everyone would think you would choose me, and come after me." He looks up at James with eyes that shine in the dim light. "If you choose one of the others, without telling anyone, then they would come after me in the belief that I'm the secret keeper. There will be no one else who would know except of us!" Sirius looks almost excited about that idea, like if it's one of the pranks they pull out of thin air.

James frowns a little. Even though Sirius is smiling, it doesn't reach his eyes. They are sad, with a mix of hurt. James doesn't understand why Sirius looks so hurt.

James isn't excited by his idea. He would prefer Sirius to be the secret-keeper. However, Sirius keeps pushing it on, coming up with good arguments why his way is better. In the end, James just gives up, reluctantly though. He could never say no to Sirius, and he's not going to do start now.

Together they decide that they should appoint Peter as the secret keeper.

…

…

…

Harry is sitting on the floor in his pajamas and laughing. He has such a cute laughter. It makes James happy to hear. They have been afraid of taking Harry outside ever since the Fidelius charm was put in place. There isn't any good in having a kid in the house all day. He should be outside playing and exploring. When James was little he had the entire Potter mansion garden and the forest behind to explore.

It's Halloween today, and James would love to take Harry out for some trick and treating, but he can't. Not while there is a threat for his son's life out there. They couldn't go last year either, Harry was only three months at that time. But there would be other years. When the war is over, he and the rest of the Marauders could take him out for some real trick and treating. That thought makes James smile. He misses his friends. He misses to talk to others.

James waves his wand, making puffs of coloured smoke erupt from his wand. Harry giggles and tries to capture the smoke. It's a game they have played many times before, but it never cease to be fun for the little boy.  _That's kids for you,_  he thinks,  _they can find the littlest of things fun._

A door opens, and James looks up to see his wife. Lily Potter is a beautiful woman with long red hair and green emerald eyes. Her eyes soften and a small happy smile comes on her lips when she sees her husband and son playing.

"I think it's time for bed," she says with her soft voice.

James gives out a small groan. "But I'm not tired."

Lily rolls her eyes and gives out a small huff. "I wasn't talking to you."

James grins in respond. "Yes ma'am." He scoops up his giggling son and hands him to Lily. She takes him in his arms and kisses her husband on the lips. "And you better remember it."

James chuckles, throws his wand down upon the sofa, and stretches, yawning…

Suddenly a door bursts open and James turns around in alarm, and starts to sprint into the hall. He can feel his heart hammer in panic.

And there, coming over the threshold, is Lord Voldemort himself.

"Lily! Take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" Even while saying this he knows it's a lost cause. The dark lord's wand is already pointed at him. All James can think is;  _I failed. I failed my family_.

"Avada Kadavra!"

The green light bursts from the wand. Like eager lighting snakes they fly towards him, and his entire sight get blocked by that green pulsating light. It's irony that they have the same colour as Lily's eyes.

Before he knows it he gets thrown backwards, and everything turns black.

…

…

…

James opens his eyes and blinks confused around.  _What just happened?_  He sits up and shoves a hand through his hair, making it go everywhere. His head is pounding and he can't remember how he got to be lying on the floor.

He gets himself up on his feet and starts looking around. He's home at least. So that's a starter.

"Lily?" he calls out for his wife, but there is no respond. He knits his eyebrows together. James looks around again, and notices that the door is open. Maybe Lily went out? But why would she go outside?

"Lily?!" He calls out again, much louder this time. Not liking this at all.

James is feeling itchy all over, and his head his pounding like if he was run over by a hippogriff. He closes his eyes and tries to remember what happened, but with no luck. All he can see is a bright green light.

_How weird_.

James moves into the living room and looks around. Everything is normal here. He sees his wand lying in the sofa. And he gets this urgent feeling that he needs it, badly. Quickly he moves towards the sofa and bends down to pick it up.

James frowns. He move his hand to pick it up again, but somehow is hand is just going straight through it. He straightens up and looks at his hand confusion.  _What is going on?_

He moves to pick the wand up again, hoping that he was just seeing things. He moves his hand deeper this time and… His hand slips straight through the sofa, like if it's not there. Like if it's a hallucination or something.

James moves backwards in shock. He looks at his hand, then at the sofa.  _This is… This is… What in Merlin's beard?!_

Suddenly a roaring sound breeches the eerie silence that had been there before. James jumps and looks around. What has this surreal world in store for him this time?

The sound disappears as fast as it came. Shorty after the sound of steps coming up the house appears. James can hear the person's, or creature's, breath go in and out fast, ether of freight, anticipation or just from the running. James can't really tell.

"James!?" Someone calls out, and James feels so relived. He recognizes that voice. He can't believe he didn't recognize the sound of Sirius' motorcycle either.

"I'm here." He says and steps into the hall. Sirius is standing by the door, looking tired and anxious. He's long black hair is a mess and he's rather pale. Probably from the ride on the bike, James thinks.

"Merlin, Padfoot. I'm glad to see you." He starts walking towards his friend, but something makes him stop. Sirius isn't even looking at him, he's staring with big eyes on a spot on the ground. James follows his eyes and freezes.

There, lying immobile on the floor, is… him.

James blinks his eyes in surprise. Why would he be lying there when he was… Well, over here?

Sirius walks fast towards the other him and falls down beside it. He takes his hands on it's shoulder and starts to shake the body.

"James!" Sirius screams, heartbroken. A noise which makes James' chest ache. "Wake up!"

James gulps and looks at the scene with big eyes. He doesn't want to believe what he is seeing. The other him is just lying there, staring up at nothing. No one is home.  _Why isn't there anyone home?_  Is the only thought that comes to him.

_Because it's you_ , a voice says inside of him.  _It's you who are lying there on the floor_.

James doesn't want to believe that, but he knows it's true. He remembers now. He was in the living room with Lily and Harry. Then...Then the door burst open. He remembers running into the hall to stall Voldemort. He remembers getting hit by the killing curse.

A low sob escapes him. He failed.  _I failed_. He couldn't save his family. His wife. Dead. His baby boy. Dead. All because he couldn't protect them. He took a hand to the face.  _They are dead_ , he whimpers, _you stupid stupid arrogant man. Why did you drop your wand?_

Sirius has stopped shaking his body. Now he just sits there leaning over his body and cradling his face. Tears are running down Sirius face, and it makes James wants to wail. He's never seen Sirius cry before. Sirius who was always so strong. Sirius who never cried for anything, not even when he left his family, not when his own baby brother died, is now sitting on the floor. Crying for him.

James drops down on the floor next to him. He's whimpering slightly, feeling so fucking useless. He wants to cry, but he can't, he has no tears. He doesn't have any heart beater either, his mind notice, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything anymore.

Sirius is mumbling something over and over again, and James leans a bit in to hear the whispering words.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." He mumbles again and again. James gives out a low sigh.

"It's not your fault, Sirius. We could never have known that…" He knitters his eyebrows together.  _How did Voldemort know how to find us?_  The moment he thinks it, the answer comes to it. The only one who could tell where they were was Peter. His good childhood friend had ratted him out. James tightens his jaw. It's all that bloody rats fault!

James roars with anger. He'll kill him! He'll fucking kill him! James lashes out with his anger, wanting to smash something in pieces.

Suddenly all of the mirrors and windows in hall smashes, and pieces of glass start falling down with loud noises. James blinks in surprise. Did he just do that?

Sirius moves his body to protect his own, not wanting to damage James' body anymore. James frowns at this, not really seeing the point. He's not there anymore. It doesn't belong to him anymore. Sirius starts pressing his lips against "his". And James frowns at that as well.

"What are you doing?" This seems like an even weirder thing then protecting the hollow shell of his body. But Sirius doesn't answer, he can't see him.

"I love you James, I love you more than anything in the world. And I'm so so fucking sorry. I should have told you, I should have told you." Comes the sobbing voice from Sirius. He keeps kissing James lips and face, like if it could bring him back.

James stares at his best friend with a confused expression.

"What do you mean that you love me?" Again, he gets no reply. Only Sirius whispers that he loves him.

James bites his lip and looks at his friend for a long while. The eerie silence is back. It feels like if nothing is real. It feels like a bad dream.  _Please oh Please wake up._

Suddenly a low cry breeches the silence, and James and Sirius looks up in confusion.

"Harry!" They say simultaneously and before any of them knows it, they are up on their feet and running towards the sound. They reach the bedroom at the same time. James notices Lily lying on the floor, the brilliant green eyes empty of life.

"Lily," James gives out a low sob.  _I failed. I promised I'd keep your safe. I'm sorry. Please forgive me._

His eyes doesn't water, he has no tears to shed. But he knows if he had only one, he would give it to his wife.

James looks up when he can hear a small giggle. And he takes a hand over his mouth in relief. Harry is alright.  _He's alright._  He wasn't a total failure after all. But his heart still bleeds from the loss of his wife. He would have been happy if Harry and Lily were okay, they are the only one who matters. He'd died a thousand times over as long as they would be safe.

Sirius is holding his arms protectively around Harry.

"It's alright, Harry," he mumbles to the sleepy boy, "go back to sleep, you are safe." Harry looks with sleepy eyes at Sirius, grabs his shirt and closes his eyes again. A low yawn escapes the little boy's mouth.

James notices a scar on Harry's forehead. It looks like a thunderbolt, but he doesn't care right now. All he can think is:  _Harry is alive. He's alright!_

"Hello? Is anybody here?" A booming voice calls out.

"We are in here!" Sirius calls out, recognizing the voice coming from their good friend, Hagrid. Steps can be heard before the big frame of Hagrid appears at the door.

"Is that you Sirius?"

Sirius nods and gives the big man a small, sad smile.

"Yeah. And Harry is fine."  _He's fine._  "I don't know how though, why did Voldemort let him live?" Sirius frowns, but James doesn't care. Not as long as his son  _is alive._

Hagrid only nods in respond, he is happy too that the boy is alive. "I dunno. Mayhap Dumbledore might know?"

Sirius looks at him and nods. "Yeah…"

The silence returns. Both men in their own thoughts. Both of them mourning the loss of their good friends. James is starting to feel light headed, and his mind is starting to get slow and heavy. He feels so tired.  _Maybe it's time to cross over?_  He doesn't know why he stayed behind in the first place. Maybe he just wanted to know that his family was alright.  _Yeah, that's it_ , the voice murmurs in his head.  _Time to go then_.

"I'm keeping Harry!" The sharp voice of his best friend pierces James' cloudy mind, and he focuses back on the two men. Sirius is looking angry and defensive, he's clutching Harry towards his chest.

Hagrid mumbles a bit desperately. "Professor Dumbledore told me to get the lad. And I'm gonna do as the professor says."

Sirius growls and takes a step back. "I don't care! I'm his godfather, It's my responsibility to take care of him."

Hagrid looks at him and sighs. "I know, Sirius, I know. This is a hard time for all of us. Please let me have the lad. It's not like you won't see him again." He gives him a small, sad smile. "Just give it a little time, you are grieving and yer not thinking straight."

Hagrid keeps pleading, and in the end Sirius reluctantly agrees and hands over Harry.

"Just. Take my bike, you will get around faster that way." Hagrid nods and thanks him. He takes Harry and starts walking out of the house.

Sirius and James trails behind them. James is so tired. Just taking a single step is exhausting, and his head is spinning.  _A little bit more,_  he thinks,  _little bit more._  That's all he asks for. Just a little bit more time to be sure that Harry will be okay.

James and Sirius stands side by side while watching Hagrid step up on the monster of a motorcycle. He gives them a wave, starts the motor and is soon up in the sky and on his way to Dumbledore.

James looks at Sirius and smiles.

"You'll be alright too, Sirius." He takes his hand on Sirius shoulder, careful so it doesn't go through it.

Sirius turns towards him and stares straight at him.

"James?" He knitters his brows together in confusion.

James smiles softly at him. "Take care of him, Sirius." He closes his eyes. He is so tired. Before he knows it he's drifting. And everything turns white, and he feels like he's floating on a cloud.

_Take care, Sirius._

Sirius stands there alone and blinks in surprise. He was so sure James stood there next to him a secound there. He thought he could hear James whisper in his ear.

Sirius closes his eyes.  _I love you_ , he thinks.  _You won't go un-avenged._ He tightens his jaw. He'll kill Peter, if it's the last thing he does! He takes a last look into the house. Seeing James lying there, staring at nothing makes his heart ache. He flickers his wand and the door closes.

Sirius turns around and starts walking down the street. He has a rat to catch.


	2. Chapter 2

The room is small. It's the sort of room where you store boxes and jackets you don't use. It's not even a room. It's a cupboard, and it's located under the stairs. The room is cold too. Too cold for any creature to stay in for a long period of time. There aren't even any windows. And the only source of light comes from the crack under the door.

And in the dark cupboard under the stairs in the house at number 4, Privet drive, among all the boxes and jackets and Merlin knows what, there is a little baby crib. And in the crib sits a little boy. A little boy with black hair, green eyes and a bolt of a scar on his forehead.

Harry Potter huddles under his blanket. He is so cold, and he misses his parents. He doesn't understand why they had left him with these horrible people who locks him in this cold room. He is hungry too.

Harry looksup when the door burst open, and he slithers his eyes to shield them from the bright light. The warmth hits him like a flood of slithering snakes. The boy shivers. Feeling even colder now.

In the door appears a thin, blond haired woman. She walks into the room and stops next to the baby crib. Harry looks up at her, and misses his mother even more. This woman looks a little like his mama, but she is nothing like her. This thin horse-looking woman has mean pale eyes.

"I suppose you are hungry then," she says with a sharp voice, making little Harry shrink. He doesn't like this woman.

"We really shouldn't feed the likes of you," she continues to say, with venom in her voice. "But we don't have any choice in the matter."

Petunia purses her lips. She wishes she didn't need too. She might have been cold to her sister the last couple of years, but that doesn't mean she didn't love Lily. This boy, Lily's boy, has her sister's eyes. The same gorgeous emerald eyes she has envied for years. And now, now she has to take care of her sister's son. Because she was stupid enough to get involved with a wizard and killed.

_Yeah,_ she thinks,  _it's all his fault._ Its James Potter's fault her sister is dead. And this little brat living under her staircase is a reminder of that fact. He might have Lily's eyes, but he looks like his father. That bastard man for taking her sister with him to the grave.

_But don't worry, Lily._  She says in her mind to her sister.  _I'll make sure your son will be a proper one. He won't be a wizard like his bloody father._  Because wizards are unnatural, and it's their fault her sister is dead. If it hadn't been for that letter her baby sister got all those years ago, she would still be here. Petunia and Lily would be best friends like they used to when they were little.

Petunia leans down to the crib and lays a bottle of milk by the boy. "There you go," she says, "drink it all up." She leans back up again, not bothering to feed him herself. She has better things to do then fuzz with the offspring of that wizard. If wizards are so great, they can feed themselves.

Petunia turns around and starts walking out of the room. She takes a last look behind her at the baby crib among all the boxes and jackets. You can almost not see it from her.

_You shouldn't blame the boy,_  a voice whispers in her ear. But she can't help it. Every time she looks at him she gets reminded of James. Of her sister's killer. And who can blame her? It was only two days ago they got the little brat at their door. She closes the door. Leaving the room dark again.

James Potter clicks his tongue in disapproval. He can't believe Dumbledore would leave his baby boy in the hands of Lily's sister and husband. It's not that he doesn't like them. But they were always so rude to him, no matter how much he tried to make up for it. No, they always acted like he was the spawn of some evil demon.

James looks around in the dark cupboard, filled with boxes and stuff. It's no place for a baby crib to be. And again he thinks that Dumbledore is mad.  _Does he really hate us that much?_

He wonders what he did to deserve this. His Harry deserves so much more than this.

James sighs and moves so he is standing in front of the baby crib. He looks down at his son. Harry is gripping the bottle of milk tightly, and is chewing on the spout.

James smiles softly at the sight. "You have to move the bottle up to get to the liquid." He mimics the movement with his hand. But the one year old can't see him, neither does he understand. James drops his hand and sighs. He wished there was something he could do. But he is dead, so there isn't anything.

When he thinks about it, he wonders why he is still here, why he hasn't moved on yet. But he can't, not while Harry is imprisoned by the Dursleys.  _No_ , he thinks, _I'll stay until Sirius comes and get him._

"But it has been two days," he muses aloud to himself.  _Why hasn't Sirius come to get him yet?_  He doesn't like this. Something is wrong, he can feel it inside of him.

James gazes down at his baby boy. Harry is looking back up at him and sniffs, either from cold or sadness.

"Papa," he says. And James gets a tight feeling in his chest. It's the first word Harry has ever said.

"Yes, Harry. Papa is here." He leans down and strokes a finger down Harry's chin. Oh how much he wishes he could touch and hug his son. "And Papa isn't going anywhere."

Harry gives a small happy smile, and James is certain for a secound that Harry could hear him. But that's ludicrous, it's just his imagination.

Harry lets out a small yawn, clutches his blanket tightly, and lies down; going straight threw James' hand on the way. James shivers a little when it happens. It's a weird feeling when someone goes through you. It has happen twice before that Vernon or Petunia has stepped through him when he isn't paying any attention.

James gazes down at his sleepy child. "Sleep well Harry," he mumbles and leans down. He let his lips hover over Harry, than he presses down and leaves a ghost kiss on the child's head. He takes a hand over the blanket, closes his eyes and concentrate. After a couple of seconds the blanket moves and covers the boy completely.

…

…

At first James can't tell where he is. The room is crowded and filled with the sound of people whispering to each other. The room is formed like an amphitheater. Each row, eight in total, is higher than the last. In the front there is something resembling a stage, only that it's much lower than the first row. Making it so that everyone is staring down at whoever is on the "stage". It's empty now, though.

James looks around. Everyone has grim and shocked expressions on their faces. He recognizes a couple of people. Albus Dumbledore is sitting there next to Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody. Two rows over James' good friend, Remus Lupin, is sitting. Remus' face looks pale and he has dark rings under his eyes. His entire appearance looks shabby and exhausted. Even at such an early age his light brown hair is starting to look grey. The scars cutting across his face look even more appalling than usual.

_Oh,_  James thinks, and looks at Remus with sad eyes. It was a fullmoon on Halloween this year (1). The same night James and Lily died. James bites his lip.  _It's not your fault, Remus._  But he knows his friend is blaming himself for not being there. For being a monster, and running under the full moon in the forest as a beast while his friends got slaughtered.

James sighs and looks around. He recognizes the room now. He's in one of the courtrooms in the minister of magic.  _Why am I here?_  He wonders. He has no control of where he ends up. He can't stay lucid for a long period of time. Usually just a quarter of an hour, or maybe two if he's lucky. After that he starts floating away again, and everything turns first white then black. And when he comes back to it, hours could have passed. He doesn't know what happens in the hours he isn't there. And the thought scares him. He doesn't want to just disappear.

James scratches his nose. There has to be a reason for him being in this room specifically. The other three times he has woken up he has been in the room with Harry. But not this time. Whatever the reason for him being here, it has to be important somehow. A courtroom, what can a courtroom mean?

_Maybe,_  James pounders,  _maybe they caught Peter?_  He hopes so. He hopes he can watch while they send Peter to Azkaban for life. The rat deserves it.

Everyone in the room turns quiet and James looks down at the scene, just like every other person in the room. Something must be happening then.

Out of a door in the back two tall Auroras appears. James' doesn't know their names, he doesn't care. He watches hungrily for the sight of that cowardly rat.

A man trails behind the two Auroras. James can't see who it is, but from the angry murmurs that come from the people sitting around him, he can guess that it is Peter. James clenches his fist, oh how he wishes he could punch him. He who dared to call James his friend. He who dared to kill his wife! James gives out a low growl, and before he knows it, a glass sitting in front of him shatters.

The man sitting next to James looks puzzled at the broken glass, but soon enough he gets distracted and looks forwards again. James follows his gaze.

On the scene the two Auroras had posed themselves on each side of their prisoner, making sure that he wouldn't escape. James nods in approval. They can't take the chance of letting his wife's murderer get away.

James focuses on the prisoner, piercing him with an angry scowl. But instead he freezes.  _No,_ he shouts,  _this is wrong_. What is Sirius doing there?

A man stands up in the crowed, and James recognizes him as Bartimeus Crouch Sr.

"Sirius Black, you are charged for being allied with the dark lord and for the use of the dark arts. Furthermore you are charged for manslaughter. The death of Peter Pettigrew-"

James looks up at that.  _Peter is dead?_ He looks back at Sirius with an unreadable expression. Not knowing if he should be sad or happy by the news.  _Oh Sirius_ , he thinks, _you shouldn't have._

"the slaughter of twelve muggles and the murder of Lily and James Potter."

James blinks his eyes in shock at that.  _No!_ He stands up and hurries down the rows, jumps over the last one and stands in front of Sirius. He takes his arms out, trying to protect Sirius from the glares given to him by the wizards.

"It's not true! Sirius didn't kill Lily and me! It was Peter! Peter was our secret-keeper!" But of course no one can see or hear him. James continues to plead at them to listen, but Crouch just continues to talk.

James turns to Sirius and bites his lip in frustration and helplessness.

"Tell them Sirius. Please." He doesn't want to see his best friend get thrown to Azkaban for the murder of himself. But Sirius keeps quiet. He just stares down at the floor with an expressionless face. James doesn't like it. He takes a step towards his friend and cups his face.

"Sirius, Please. Don't do this." He whispers, but Sirius just stares straight through him. James feels so helpless and… Well dead. His chest hurts from hearing and seeing this. But no matter what, he can't change it. Sirius blames himself for this. It was his fault they chose Peter as a secret-keeper. So technically it's his fault, but James doesn't blame him. It's not his fault.  _It's not your fault_.

"Sirius Black, you are hereby sentenced for life to the prison of Azkaban."

James closes his eyes and let his hands fall.

"You idiot," he mumbles. "You bloody idiot." He shakes his head. Still Sirius isn't saying anything, but a small smile appears on his lips. Suddenly he is laughing darkly, and the entire room is silence while they stare at the laughing convict.

James is staring at Sirius with an expressionless face.

"What's so funny?" he asks.  _What could be funny at a time like this?_  He doesn't get his answer.

Bartimeus Crouch Sr. gives a signal. The two Auroras grab Sirius and starts pulling him away and towards the door. Still Sirius is laughing.

Before he disappears his grey eyes locks with James' hazel ones. And for a moment there James is sure that Sirius can see him. Everything starts to turn hazy and before he knows it everything turns white. Sirius' grey eyes are still hunting him, before his mind blanks out.

…

…

It's raining. The falling drops of water makes "tap, tap, tap" sounds as they hit the umbrellas. The umbrellas belong to a group of people huddled together underneath them, trying to find shelter from the rain. Everyone is draped with black clothes and grim and sad expressions.

James looks around at the people. There are maybe thirty or forty of them gathered in the field. Some of them are crying into a napkin, and others are staring down on the grass or trying to comfort their friends and family. In the distance the sound of a silver bell can be heard.

James looks around in confusion. Why is he here, he wonders. He's still in shock from earlier. One secound he was in the courtroom, and the next outside here in the rain. He doesn't know how long he has been gone. Hopefully not long. He looks up in the sky and bites his lip. He can't feel the rain on his cheek. No, the rain falls straight through him, like if he isn't there.  _You aren't here._

He wishes he could feel the cold that everyone else seems to feel. He wishes he could feel the ground under his feet, but he can't feel anything. He's numb to the world.  _You don't belong_ , the wind whispers. He can't feel the wind either. The cry of a baby disrupts his thoughts, and James looks at his right.  _Harry_.

Harry is lying in the arms of a strawberry blond woman. She has a small black hat on her head, making it so that James' can't see her face through the veil attached to the small hat. She is wearing a long black dress with long sleeves, so as not to freeze in the cold weather. By her side her husband, Frank Longbottom stands. In his arms a small boy is resting peacefully.

James feels a sting of jealousy from the sight. Alice and Frank's son was only born a day earlier then Harry. It could have been them Voldemort had chosen to kill. Oh, how he wished Voldemort hadn't chosen Harry. Then it would be Lily and him out here on the field today, mourning the loss of their two friends.

James bites his lip. No, he shouldn't think like that. By his wife sacrifice the war ended. Harry is safe, every other child is safe. He should be glad he could do something to save the world. But he can't keep from being jealous. He can't keep for wishing that he hadn't needed to die for it to happen.

James looks around again. There are lots of graves everywhere. Some old, some new. Further away he can see a big statue of an angel. James blinks his eyes a little in surprise. He knows where he is now. He's in the graveyard in Godric's Hollow.

The Godric's Hollow's graveyard is a famous place. It has its name from Godric Griffindor, one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Godric is also buried here. Again James wonders why he is here. Why this place of all places?

The answer to the question is found right infront him. He doesn't quite see how he didn't notice before. This is the reason why everyone is here.

In front of him a big grave stone stands. It's made of white marble, and is glowing slightly in the dark shadows in the afternoon. One can see the fresh dirt in front of it, telling everyone that this is a fresh made grave. James leans a bit closer and squints, trying to read what it says.

**_In loving memory_ **

**_Of_ **

**_James Potter * Lily Potter_ **

James feels an ache of pain in his chest.  _It's their grave_. Here Lily and he will lay for the rest of time. United even in death. He bites his finger, wishing again that he could cry.  _One never acknowledges the pleasure of something before you lose it._ He'd never imagined that he would miss it. He hasn't cried many times in his life, and now he wishes he had. Just like he wishes he had done a lot of other things. Like stopping to smell the roses, and the pleasure of feeling rain on his naked face.

James looks closer at the grave. Under their name the date of birth and the date of their death are written in. He lets his eyes roam fast through the dates, and rest his eyes on the bottom of the grave.

**_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._ **

He gives out a small chuckle.  _That is true,_  he thinks, _so true_. He leans back again and let his eyes rest on the familiar faces of people he knew and loved in life. It saddens him to not see Sirius among them.  _Why didn't you say anything Sirius?_ He looks down at the grave again.

After a while people starts to scatter. They are probably going home to eat or talk to others. Or maybe they are just cold from the weather. James feels a sting of jealousy. He'll never be hungry or cold again. He can't talk to anyone either. No one can see him. He wonders slightly where Lily is.  _Moved on perhaps,_   _but to where?_ The not knowing part is scaring him. What happens after? He doesn't want to just disappear. He's never really thought of what happens after one dies. He's always been more of a 'live by the day' sort of man. He gives a low sigh and gazes down at the grave in front of him.

James barely notices when Alice and Frank Longbottom leaves with his son. There isn't anything he can do about it, so he let them leave without saying anything. He'll see Harry later. At least he hopes it will be later. He isn't ready to leave this existence just yet.

The time continues to tick, and more and more people is leaving. James is starting to feel tired, a feeling he is starting to get used to by now. This is the longest he has ever stayed lucid, but now things are starting to get hazy again. He closes his eyes. He's ready for it. He doesn't want to stay any longer.

Abruptly the feeling disappears, and James opens his eyes in surprise. That has never happened before. He notices that the day has turn darker, and he realizes that it has gone a couple of hours. It's still raining, though not as much as earlier. The grave stones are shining more now that it is darker. In front of the grave a man is kneeling, or at least James assumes it's a man. His or hers appearance is blocked by an umbrella. But James is not alarmed. He recognizes the umbrella.

The umbrella is black with red griffins standing around in a circle. When the rain hits it, the griffins starts running around. It's a cool charm, but unfortunately one can't use it to much, incase muggles notices it. No, he knows this umbrella. Sirius and James bough one for each marauder in fifth grade. James doesn't have his anymore. Lily didn't like it. He doesn't know what happen to the others.

James leans closer in. He has this silly sting of hope in his stomach that it's Sirius who is standing there. Maybe everything worked itself off? Oh he hopes so, for Merlin's sake. He doesn't know what he would do with Sirius being in Azkaban for something he didn't do. So he lets himself hope.

His hope gets crushed a secound later, when a mop of thin light brown hair appears behind the umbrella. So unless Sirius has coloured his black curly hair and cut it, it can't be him.

James leans back up and sighs. He has this curl of fear and worried for Sirius in his chest. He wished there was something he could do.

The man under the umbrella, who James recognizes as Remus. The last Marauder standing. Leans down and lays a green lily on the grave.  _A bit of an irony,_  James thinks.

"I'm sorry," Remus whispers, "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

James shakes his head. "It's not your fault, Remus. It's your fault even less than Sirius. Heck! It's my fault she died. It's my fault for thinking we were safe." He sighs again, in misery this time. So many thinks that could have been changed.

Remus doesn't answer him, and he wasn't expecting it either. After a couple of minutes Remus rises. He gazes down at the grave for a couple of seconds.

"Rest in peace my friends," he says with a soft voice. "Thank you for everything, James. Thank you for being my friend and looking after me at Hogwarts. I wouldn't have survived if it wasn't for you and-" He stops himself. He looks away, clears his throat, and looks back again. This time with anger in his voice.

"I should have seen it coming. I should have known Sirius would do something, but I couldn't believe he would be so cruel." He clenches his jaw, and James gives a little sight.  _It wasn't him Remus. Don't believe it for a secound. Sirius would never have harmed me, and you know it._

Remus let's his head fall forward, and he stands there for a couple of minutes. James clears his throat and looks away. Not wanting to see his friend in such a vulnerable state. A low sob erupts from the other man.

"I'm so sorry James. I'm so sorry Lily. I failed, I failed as a friend." Comes the small whisper. James bites his lip. Seeing Remus like this makes his heart bleed.  _You haven't failed Remus. Never._ He lays his hand on Remus' shoulder and gazes at him with a sad expression. He knows he is alone now. Remus will always have hard life. And now he is alone. James wish he could cry, but he has no tears.

"Remus," he says, "you are not alone. Not ever. We'll always be there with you." He smiles softly. "And Sirius got framed. He didn't kill us. You have to prove that he's innocent. Sirius will take care of you. Just get him out."

They stand like that for another couple of minutes. James pleading to Remus to listen to him, and Remus standing there, saying nothing. It ends when Remus turns to leave. He walks straight through James, making the spirit shiver. He hates when that happens.

Remus starts walking further into the graveyard, not taking the road like everyone else did, like James expected. James hesitates, before he walks after him, curious about where he is going.

They walk between graves and bushes. Remus steps makes a low "thud thud" sound when his feet hits the wet ground. James own steps don't make a single sound, it doesn't even make a trail of footsteps behind him.  _I'll never get used to that_.

Their journey is quiet, except of the sound of rain and Remus' steps. The atmosphere around the graveyard is eerie. James looks around, almost expecting to see other spirits or ghosts like him. But he can't see any. The journey ends in front of a new grave. This one also has fresh dirt in front of it. James leans closer and narrows his eyes.

**_Here lies_ **

**_Peter Pettigrew_ **

**_A hero to us all_ **

James gives out a growl in anger. That traitor of a rat doesn't deserve a grave. At least not anywhere near Lily.  _AND HE'S NOT A HERO._  James is thoroughly pissed. Why doesn't anyone listen to him?!

Remus gazes down at the gravestone with a sad expression, and James let's out another growl in frustration.  _Don't weep over him, he doesn't deserve it._  He glares at the stone. Wanting to smash it to pieces. No one should weep over Peter, not when he got his wife killed.  _Traitor_.

James closes his eyes and concentrates everything on the stone before him. He wants to blink it out of existence. He wants to rebuilt the letters so they say:

**_Here Lies_ **

**_Peter Pettigrew_ **

**_A traitor and a killer_ **

James opens his eyes, but the gravestone is still there. The letters hasn't changed either. James sighs. He hates this.

"I'm sorry Peter," Remus murmurs. "It's my fault for not seeing how fucked up Sirius was." He leans down and puts a white tulip on the grave. The flower symbolizes forgiveness.

When Remus turns to leave, James stays behind. Not bothering to follow. He glares down at the grave with hate.  _I'm glad you are dead._  He hopes he'll never meet Peter in the afterlife. If he did, then Peter would die twice, or maybe four or five times if he can.

James use the rest of his time staring down at his ex-friend's grave. When the lightheaded feeling comes again, he embraces it. He doesn't want to stay here anymore. He closes his eyes, and soon enough his mind starts floating away, bringing him to the dark silence of nothing.

On Peter's grave the white tulip has withered and died. Leaving the dead skeleton of the tulip, a mark of his betrayal.

…

…

**(1)This isn't true by the way. In case you were wondering. The full moon was four days earlier, on the 27** **th** **October. But I just jumped it to the thirty-first because it fits in the story more. Sort off. Well, it was more that I wanted it to be on the 31** **th** **.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got to to say that I'm not so happy about this chapter. This story is suppose to be sad, however my very bad sense of humor keeps creeping up on me. I don't really like the part about Harry. But I decided to just to keep it like I wrote it in the beginning. I'll just go back later to edit it if I figure out a better way to write it.
> 
> Sorry for all grammar mistakes

The house at number four Privet Drive consists of two floors. The house is made of sand coloured bricks. In the front it has two big and two small windows, and in the back two times as much. This makes it easy for anyone spying on the house to able to look into it. It also makes the house less suspicious. If the neighbors can see what you are doing, it makes it less likely that anyone would come up with ridiculous gossip about you. Not that it has stopped anyone from doing so.

Number four privet drive is identical with number five and three privet drive. Not to mention number 2, 1, 6, 7 and… Well, the rest of them. The only difference is the people living there and the furniture. Many late Saturday nights has been spent on neighbors fighting about which house belongs to which.

"No, I'm absolutely sure this is my house. I even have a key."

"It stands number seven on that key, you moron! This is number 1."

"What are you doing in my house!?"

"This is my house, you just banged on the door in the middle of the night, demanding to be let in."

A couple of times it has happen that you wake up in the middle of the night, with the neighbor lying next to you in your bed.

Mr. Patrick Stump was a former gymnast. He was in his fifty, and very agile for his age. Unfortunately he had begun to drink after his youngest son died. This had ended up with a couple of misunderstandings when Mr. Stump came home from the pub. One night he had missed his house by one. When the key didn't fit, he had climbed up the house, managed to open a window, climbed in and spend the night in the neighbors teenager girl's bed. Merlin knows she had been quite aggravated when she woke up the next morning.

Due to this incident, Mrs. Stump had put up a sign reading 'this is your house Patrick' on the front with big bold letters.

All the houses in Little Whinging Privet Drive had their own secrets. Mr. John Hepp in number 7 was having an affair with Mr. Carson McGallen in number 2. The teenager leaving in number 10 was selling drunks to most of the people living in the street. Mrs. Kahlan Amnell, a seventy one year old widow, had murdered her husband twenty years earlier. And Arabella Doreen Figg was actually a squib, who was cross breeding cats and kneazles.

In Fantastic beasts and where to find them, by Newt Scamander, you can find this information about kneazles:

_A kneazle is a magical feline creature related to, and similar in appearance to, a cat. They have spotted, speckled or flecked fur, large ears and a lightly plumed tail, like a lion. They have thought to have separate in breeds, like cats, and therefore vary in appearance. They make excellent pets if they like a witch or wizard. They have a very high level of intelligence, are independent and occasionally aggressive, and have an uncanny ability to detect suspicious and distrustful people. They can also safely guide their owner home. Because of their aggression towards certain individuals. Kneazles have a XXX classification by the ministry of magic if they are not interbred with another species._

Of all the houses in Little Whinging Privet drive, house number four might have one of the biggest secrets. You see, there ljves a special little boy there. He's the son of Lily and James Potter, and the last living offspring of the Potter house. He has green emerald eyes, dark untamed hair and a scar formed like a lightning bolt on his forehead. This isn't a normal scar, no not all. He got this scar a couple of years earlier when the Dark Lord visited his parents. Unfortunately for little Harry, they weren't on the best terms. No. They were in fact enemies.

Little Harry James Potter was the only survivor of this terrible incident, and from there he had gotten his scar. Harry doesn't know about this though, he has been told his parents died in a car accident. And now he lives here with his aunt Petunia, uncle Vernon and their son, Dudley Dursley. Not the kindest people in the world in Harry's opinion.

The thing he likes the best about the house is the back garden. The garden is of moderate, if not large, size but is extremely neat: the emerald-green grass is pristine and short. A large tree grows near the tidily-trimmed green hedge, and on certain summer days the leaves would blow gently across the ground. Roses grow in small pots on either side of the back door, and a small potted plant hangs from a lantern by said entry.

A small wooden shed stands near the tree, right against the hedge, and is a home to a rather large grey spider, which Harry would get acquainted with when he got older. The Dursleys also has a moderate proportioned bench.

Harry loves playing in the garden. There is so much to explore and look at. However he isn't allowed to spend too much time outside. His aunt and uncle usually keep him locked in the cupboard _. For his own protection_ , they say. But that doesn't mean he likes it. No, he hates the cupboard. It's so dark and quiet in there. The only thing that makes it bearably is his guarding angel.

As long as he can remember there has been this presence looking after him. He can sense it when he's in the room, and he always get's this warm, protecting feeling. Like if nothing can hurt him while he's near. When his angel isn't there, Harry feels lonely and sad. He looks at this presence as his only friend.

Sometimes when he gets locked inside for a whole day, he can look away for a secound, and when he looks back there is a small cupcake or a treat on his nightstand. On his birthday or Christmas he finds a small present waiting for him when he wakes up. The Dursleys doesn't give him anything, but he doesn't care. Not as long as his angel is there.

Before Harry goes to sleep, he sits on the floor with his hands folded and talks to him. He talks about his day, about how stupid Dudley is, how everyone is picking on him at school, and how grateful he is for having someone watch over him. Even those times he can't sense the presence he talks. Believing that his guarding angel can hear him anywhere he is.

…

…

Not far from the house there is a forest. The rumors say that it lives an evil spirit there. The rumor started when Harry was maybe three years old, and has become a bit of a legend around the closest streets. Everyone knows that something unnatural happens in there. Late at night creepy people will wander in there, wearing weird clothes, and they talk strangely too. So the closest inhabitants keep clear of the street at night, keeping their children in, in case one of the weirdos is out.

The first story about the forest starts on a late autumn night. Nicholas Irskov was stalking the house at number four privet drive. It had taken him months to track down the whereabouts of the boy-who-lived. The last couple of days he had watched the house and learned the keepers of the boy's habits. Petunia and Vernon Dursely were creatures of habit. They woke up at seven thirty in morning, and went to bed at ten thirty. So now, twelve minutes past midnight, Nicholas Irskov, a former minion of the dark lord, made himself ready to revenge his master's death.

Oh, he had planned it well too. He would simply sneak into the bedroom, kill the Dursleys, than track down the bedroom of the boy-who-lived. He wasn't one hundred percent sure where the brat slept. But the house had four bedrooms. He had to be in one of them.

After checking that no one was around, Nicholas Irskov started to walk down the street where he had been hiding in the shadows. He flickered his wand, and one by one the streetlights went out. Nicholas grinned.  _This would be easy._

A movement in his peripheral vision made him freeze. He clutched his wand and turned around fast, but there were nothing there. Nicholas frowned. It must have been his imagination. He looked around a couple of more seconds, make absolutely sure there were no one there. He turned around, only to find himself tripping on a small ball and getting so lucky as to get a closer look at the dark concrete. He gave out a small groan in pain.

"Blasted kids," he muttered. "Leaving toys around everywhere." He rose fast. This was one thing he'd keep out of the story when he was going to brag about killing the boy-who-lived later.

Nicholas Irskov quickly hurried over the cement, not wanting to fall again. Once was embarrassing enough. He stopped at the front of the house and looked up. It was easy enough to climb up, and so that was his plan. Before he got started he was hit by a rock. He took a hand to his forehead and looked confused around. Where had the rock come from?

He looked at his hand. He was bleeding.  _Fuck._  He looked around again, still not seeing anyone.

"Who is there?" Nicholas growled, trying to keep how frighten he was out of his voice. No reply came. The death eater raised his wand and looked closer around. He couldn't have imagined a rock being thrown at him.  _Or maybe you fell harder than you thought?_  Nicholas frowned. Yeah, that has to be it, he thought. He turned back to the house and started to climb up.

Irskov had only gotten a meter or two up when something suddenly grabbed him, and threw him half across the yard. He hit the concrete with a loud groan, and heard something crack.

Nicholas sat up quickly and took a hand to his head, letting out another groan. Everything was spinning, and his body hurt. He definitely hadn't imagined that.

The death eater grabbed his wand and looked around quickly. He couldn't see anyone, but he was certain that something was out there.

"Who's there?" he asked again, not trying to keep the scared tone down this time. "I know you are there. Show yourself!"

He rose quickly and scanned the area, hoping to see the bastard. Still no reply came.

"Don't be a-"

Before Nicholas saw what hit him, he was laying in the bushes on the other side of the road.

"Bloody hell," he groaned. Feeling his eyes roll up and everything turn black. When he came to it again, everything was eerie quiet. He had no idea how long he had been out. He began to rise from the bushes, but came up short. He couldn't move his arms. A moment he started to panic, before he noticed that the stems of the bush had entangled themselves around him. He was stuck.

"Shit," he groaned and started to struggle. This only made the stems tighten the hold of him. Nicholas could feel the thorns scrape through his shirt. He started to panic. He was so no going to get crushed by plants!

He struggled and fought, and in the end he managed to grab his wand.

"Bombarda!"

The small explosion threw Nicholas once more into the air. He hit the concrete two meters away, but he didn't care this time. He was just happy to be away from the bushes.

He sat up and looked at the murdering shrubs. He smirked when seeing the burning remains of them.

"Nothing takes Nicholas Irskov out! At least not some stupid bushes!" The death eater laughed manically. Everything had just turned wrong today, but there was still time to make it right. This was a story he could never tell a living soul, otherwise he'd be the laughing stock of the death eaters. No, he had to kill the brat now to make things better.

Nicholas Irskov started to walk again, this time keeping an eye on the concrete, in case something appeared and he fell again.

The death eater didn't come far tough, before he was hit by a strong wind.  _Leave_. He loses his balances and stumbles straight into a fence. He groans again. This was so not his day.

He straightened up again, but it's hard to keep standing. The wind is just blowing stronger and stronger.  _Leave_.

Nicholas frowned. Did he just hear something?

"Leave me alone!" he yelled. He didn't like this, and he was scared.

_Leave,_  the wind whispers again,  _now._  The death eater stumbled backwards. He had definitely not imagined it this time.

The Death Eater turned around and ran. He had not signed up to fight some invisible force. 'It's probably some evil spirit,' he thought.

Nicholas stopped when he came to the dark forest. He hid among the trees.  _It won't find me here._ At least he hoped not. No. He had to think this through. Killing the boy-who-lived seems like a harder mission than he thought. But he's not going to give up just yet.

He has to think this more through. It seems like Harry Potter is protected by an evil spirit of some sort. Nicholas was impressed, he'd never heard of anyone being protected by a spirit before. If he could figure out how they had done it, he could break the spell or whatever it was. And then, then the boy-who-lived would be easy to kill. And maybe he could use the spell to protect himself. Nicholas grinned. He liked the thought of that, having a spirit as a servant.

A branch came suddenly swinging towards him, and before he is able to react he's on the ground again. This time lying in a pool of mud.

"Fucking hell," the death eater groaned. He really hates that spirit. He rose fast and started to wipe off the mud from his face.

"Leave me alone!" he yelled.  _Leave_. Nicholas shook his head. The spirit is still here. It must be protecting the entire street.

Another branch swings towards him, but this time Nicholas is ready. He moved quickly away.

"Ah!" he yelled. "You can't fool me twice!" A smell hits him and he looked down. He's standing in animal feces. The death eater swore loudly and removed himself quickly.

"It's not funny," he growled. But he swears he could hear the forest laugh.  _This entire forest is cursed._  He doesn't want to be here anymore. He has taken on more than he can handle.

Nicholas turned around and ran. "This isn't over," he muttered.

The next week he came back with a half a dozen death eaters. It didn't go any better. They all returned with grimy clothes and burned clothes. The week after that a dozen death eaters came back, all wet and smelly. They never told a soul where the smell came from.

Over the next couple of weeks more and more wizard would enter the forest, trying to rid themselves of the evil spirit living there. Soon the knowledge that the boy-who-lived lived close by was forgotten, and wizards, both light and dark, would enter the forest in the glorious hunt for the spirit. An old rich Scottish wizard, named Gideon McConnor, had made an reward for 1000 galleons for anyone who could capture the spirit. He had always wanted an evil spirit hunting his castle. After the month past by, the sighting of the spirit became fewer and fewer, but that didn't make the wizard stop trying. The evil spirit would at times show up again and pull some pranks, to remind anyone that he was still there in case some death eaters tried to come after the boy-who-lived.


	4. Chapter 4

"The house is invisible to muggles, so only wizards can see it. This is a normal, but expensive, charm used by wizarding families who want to be left alone." The woman has a high-pitched annoying voice. A voice one could hear even if she was whispering. She wasn't tall, barely 1,60, with long blond hair pulled up in a bum. A pair of small rectangular glasses framed her face.

"There was also put up a Fidelius charm, giving it extra protection." A small hand appeared in the group, and Ms. River looked down at the young girl. "Yes little one?"

The girl let her hand fall and blushes a little. Not particularly liking to be called little. "What's the fidelius charm?" she asks, a bit embarrassed. Feeling even smaller now.

Ms. Nathalie River looks up again. "Ah, yes. The Fidelius charm." She bobs her head a little towards her audience. She is guiding maybe a dozen or so people through the cottage where the Potters lived for a couple of months before they died. It's a famous place, and many rich wizards all over the world pays a fortune to visit the house. Who wouldn't want to visit the house where the dark lord was killed anyway?

It started out as a small thing. The following weeks after the murder, a lot of people would visit the house or just stand outside to honor the loss of the Potters. But also to celebrate the end of the dark times. Ms. Nathalie River and a couple of her partners had then bough up the house and set up visiting hours and guided tours. It was a brilliant idea, really. The first couple of months they had earned hundreds of galleons, and business were going pretty well. But then small accidents started to happen. Mirrors would smash, furniture would move by themselves, and one got this icky feeling that you weren't welcomed. Doors would open and close without warning and a cold wind would blow through the house.

This scared a lot of visitors for a while, but soon they came back in bigger numbers than before. They all wanted to see the hunted home of the Potters. Some would say that was the soul of the dark lord trapped in the house, others said that before the dark lord died, he cursed the house for eternity. Or that it was an evil spirit that had been in allegiance with Voldemort, and was not unable to move on.

Whatever the reason was, the house was more popular than ever. The more people that came, the more active the spirit would be, and that again caused more people to come.

James huffs in annoyance. He just wants people to leave the cabin alone. Why don't they understand that he doesn't want them there? He wants the place where his wife died, a place that turned into a horror, in peace? The worst thing is that he can't stop coming. He doesn't choose where he shows up. Sometimes with Harry, and sometimes here and at the graveyard.

He rubs his face. The spirit hates coming here, and look at people staring at the spot he died, and the spot Lily died. They take pictures and whispers in awe.

"Is it really here you-know-who died?"

"Astonishing!"

"I'm gonna tell everyone I know that I stood at the spot where the dark lord got vanquished!"

They even had scratched in at the exact spot where James and Lily bodies had been found. The first thing the tourists does, when coming in the door to the little cabin, was to take two-three dozen picture at the spot James died. How is that not enough to annoy anyone?

James glared at Ms. Nathalie River. Day after day he got reminded of what he did wrong. Time after time Ms. River would point at the couch and declare loud to the crowd that: "Mr. Potter had for some reason dropped his wand and sprinted into the hallway, unarmed, to face the dark lord. Was it stupidity or bravery that led him to do such a thing?" The crowd would laugh and come with explanations of why. After that they would use a goodly fifteen minutes talking about what would happen if James didn't drop his wand. Additionally they would discuss the reason for why James dropped his wand in the first place. It was all enough to make a bloke insane.

James shoots a hand out, and the sofa he once sat in and played with Harry gets thrown halfway across the room, barely missing the tourists. He's always careful as not to hurt anyone. At times he can't control his anger, and things fly around at their own without him meaning to do so.

The tourists scatter with frightful gasps. Before returning to the scene. The cameras come quickly up, and the next few seconds James is blinded by the lights coming from them.

"I see you met our residential ghost," comes the annoying, piercing voice of Ms. River. "The ghost is rather feisty one and has been here for years. The rumors are that he has been here ever since the fateful night you-know-who came to murder the Potters." This turns into another fifteen minute lecture about the spirit's pranks, followed by another fifteen minutes of questions from the audience.

James gives out a small growl in annoyance. How he hates these people. These bastards for ruining the last peaceful memory he has of his family as a whole. When he closes his eyes he can still see Lily's beautiful smile and her tinkling laugher. He can hear Harry giggles when he lifts him up to hand him to Lily. He can feel her kiss and her smile towards his lips. Then he hears the sound of a door bursting open. James opens his eyes quickly, not wanting to relive that again. He bites his lips and sighs. How did everything turn out like this?

When the spirit looks about again, the crowd has stepped into the bed room. James looks away, not wanting to see anymore. He hates coming here. He doesn't mind going to the graveyard. It's peaceful and quiet. He stands hours of hours looking down at his wife's grave. He talks to her, hoping she can hear him. Promising that he will one day return to her.

James doesn't mind that people visits their grave. He doesn't even care when they take pictures. People are always quiet and grim looking at a graveyard, even the kids behave. The people always leave flowers or small figures of different things one the grave, and James likes watching what people has with them. They bring all kinds of things, small statues of different creatures: Fairies, butterflies, flowers, a small dragon that moves he found there ones too.

The little dragon was hazel colored. When people came by he would sniff at them, maybe give out a burst of green flames at them. He would then walk around, before stepping back at the grave and curl together like a little ball. It saddened him the day he came by, and the dragon was no longer there. Of course James knew it wouldn't be there forever, it was just a time-limited charm, but it hadn't stopped him bounding to the little creature.

Sometimes James would float the stuff over to the children graves and lay them down in front of them. They deserved and could have more fun with them then him. Other times he would try to take a thing or two with him back to Harry, if he saw something his son might like. It usually didn't work, they would just fall on the ground when he disappeared. But sometimes it worked, and it was worth being tired and weak for days after just to see his son smile.

The thing James hated the most about the graveyard, was when people came to honor Peter's grave. He hated watching people lay flowers on his grave and mourn him. It made him furious that no one could see what a traitor Peter was. That no one had yet to figure out that Sirius was innocent made it sting even worse. James would stand at Peter's grave, watching the flowers and things laid on it burn from the everlasting rage and anger radiating from him. An anger that only burns brighter as the years pass by.

…

…

James looks down at the dog. It's a German Shepherd. The breed is well proportioned and very strong, and has a sturdy, muscular, slightly elongated body with a light, solid bone structure. The dog has dark, almond-shaped eyes. His eyes are grey, almost silver, and shine with intelligence, but also tiredness. His fur is completely black, and very soft. Something James knows personally. He loved petting him when he was alive.

James gazes down at the black Shepherd, and the dog stares back up at him. His ears are down, and now and then a small whimper emits from the dog. James sighs and looks around.

The cell is dark and filthy. In the corner a small bench with a rug hangs low from the ceiling. It's supposed to be a bed and a place to sit. It doesn't look comfortable as either. The room has three walls, and the opening end has a big lattice. The lattice is also cursed with different spells, in case the prisoner tries to escape. One of the walls there is a small window, which is only as big as James' hand. A small puff of ice cold air flows into the room now and then.

James looks back at the dog with a sad expression. He hates seeing him stuck in her. He doesn't belong here. This place is barbaric in James' mind.

"Sirius," he mumbles, and the dog gives out a small sigh, sounding almost human. Still he stares at him with grey, intelligent eyes.

Sometimes James wakes up here, in Sirius Black's prison cell in Azkaban. He doesn't like it here, it's so dark, and in the distance you can always hear the screams of Sirius' cellmates. One can never tell if its night or day in here, and James can imagine that it's always cold and smelly. For once James is glad he's a ghost. As a ghost he can neither feel nor smell anything. But he feels guilty for not doing it either. Sirius always had a good sense of smell, and as a dog it's hundred times better. James doesn't understand how he can survive it, but he supposes it's better than being cold and unable to see anything in the dark cell.

James remembers well the first time he surfaced here. Sirius had sat curled up in a ball in a corner, with his blanket tucked up good. He was shivering and had his arms around him, trying to hold on the warmth in his human form. Sirius had looked pale and shabby, with dark rings around his eyes. His hair was a mess, and that made a larger impression on James than anything else. As long as he had known Sirius, his friend had always been peculiar fussy with his hair. Sirius' hair was long and black, with a small elegant curl. It always looked like it needed a haircut, but that was by design.

Now the hair was an uncontrollable mess, just like James had lived with his hair for the most of his life. Sirius didn't look like he cared anymore, and this had made James really worried.

James has stood there and yelled and raged at Sirius.

"Tell them Sirius! Tell them!" But nothing he had said or done had work. He felt so lost and useless. He couldn't just stand there and watch his friend wither away for something he didn't do. In the end James had ended up on his knees in front of Sirius. Him staring at Sirius, and Sirius staring back with vacate eyes.

"Please," he had whispered. "Please Sirius, listen to me. It's not your fault. It's not too late to change things." Still Sirius said nothing, He only stared empty at him.

The next couple of times James came for a visit, was just like the first time. Sirius would sit curled up either on the floor or on the bench. Sometimes he would be in his animagus form. Every single time James begged Sirius to tell them, that it wasn't his fault. Ever time Sirius wouldn't hear him, couldn't hear him. After a while James stopped trying, there were no use. He would sit on the floor and stare at his friend. Sirius stared back with hollow eyes.

One day James sat in a corner in the cell. Sirius was sprawled out on the floor, with the blanket twisted around a leg. Sirius looked pale, and his face was sunken. He had always been skinny, but now he looked starved. Each time James was there, Sirius looked skinnier and skinnier. The rings around his eyes looked permanent. He had also gotten a rather puny beard.

James looked up in the air and sighed. He played a little with the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing. He was still wearing the same clothes he wore when he died. He was glad Lily had talked him into wearing clothes, and not pajamas, that morning. James smiled softly at the thought of his wife.

"It's her birthday today," James said and looked over at the shape sprawled on the floor. "Lily's birthday," he continued to say, just to be sure that they were on the same track. He knew that Sirius couldn't hear him, but he really needed someone to talk to, so as not to lose it.

"She'd turn twenty one." James gave a small sigh and ruffled his hair. They were so young, too young for all of this. They should be out having fun, doing stupid things they'd regret.

"If she was still alive. I'd throw her a big surprise party. Everyone would be there. The Longbottoms with little Neville, and you and moony of course. And Dumbledore and Shackabolt. Even Mad-eye." He gave a small laugh.

The rest of time there he spent talking about Lily's birthday party. The next time he was there he talked about Harry and how awful his uncle and aunt treated him. Over the next couple of months he would sit there and talk about things. Sometimes he was sure Sirius could hear him. One time when he told him about a rather nasty Death Eater and what prank he had done, he could swear that Sirius had actually smiled. These few things, seeing Sirius smile and Harry laugh, were the only thing that kept James from loosing it.

…

…

Sirius Black believes that he is loosing it. When he closes his eyes, all he can see is the laughing smiling faces of his friends. The friends he betrayed, and killed. Sometimes he can see Peter mocking him behind his back, and relives that day in the market. The day Peter killed himself and a dozen muggles. He relives the day again and again, week after week. He can hear laughter ringing in his ears. If it's not the laugher, it's the screaming. And he can never tell if it is he who is screaming or someone else. The worst memory that hunts him every minute of the day is the image of James lying on the floor. His hazel eyes staring up at nothing. His skin is cold under Sirius hands and lips. Sometimes Sirius dreams that James looks at him and screams: "Why did you fail me! How could you kill me? Why would you do this to me? We are no longer friends, I hate you, I hate you!" Those nights Sirius wakes up crying.  _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't hate me James, I love you more than anything._ He whispers again and again to the hunting image.

Not even when he is awake, can he escape the nightmare. Sometimes James sits there in a corner or stands leaning by the wall. James stares at him, and Sirius stares back, unable to look away. James with his hazel, gorgeous eyes. In the right light they look golden, and they almost shine when he smiles his special smile. Sirius suspects that James' soul would have the same color. James' eyes have the power of the sun. He gives richness and warmth to everything and Sirius just wants to melt every time James looks at him. He's passionate and confidant, and generous and giving, compassionate and loving. And Sirius just can't look away. He can't give up the memory of James smiling at him, or ruffling his hair.

If he closes his eyes he can imagine hearing James laugh. A sound that became rarer and rarer for every month the war passed by. When his eyes are closed he can imagine being filled with love again, of having a family again. Even though he can never be with James the way he had always wanted. But he doesn't care, not as long as he can stay orbit around the sun for eternity.

It doesn't last long. As soon as the dementors can feel his happiness and his love, they suck it out of him. And the brief flicker of happiness turns into a nightmare. All he can see his James' empty eyes and his still, cold body. He sees Remus' grim, sad face at the trial, the last time he saw his friend. In the background he can see the twisted faces of his family, smiling their evil, twisted smile at him. And calls him a good boy. A good boy for betraying his friends and getting them killed.  _Mama was right. I am broken. Always was._

Sometimes when James is there it looks like he's saying something. He ruffles his hair and waves his hands, like he always does when he's saying something he is excited about. Sometimes he has a big grin on his face, and the sight makes Sirius smile. He knows it just an image of his imagination, but he can't keep out the happiness from seeing James again. Even how much it hurts seeing him there. When he's not there, Sirius feels lonely and sad. He doesn't want to be alone. If he's going to spend his entire life in the prison, he doesn't mind having James with him. Even though he isn't real.

Sirius doesn't dare saying anything to his imaginary-friend. He's afraid if he does, that James will disappear for good. No, he's content with just staring at him, staring at James telling him stories he can't hear. Sometimes, when Sirius closes his eyes and concentrate. He can imagine hearing what he's saying. It's just a low whisper, barely audible.

"You should have been there, Sirius. Harry was… And then he fell in the mud, it was hilarious! … You should see his cousin. He's enormous and… Harry's a good boy, Lily would be proud."

Sirius can never hear everything he says, and it gives him a headache if concentrate too long. But just hearing James' voice makes everything alright again. He can almost imagine him being alive. That they are back in Hogwarts pulling all sort of pranks.

One night Sirius was in his dog form. He preferred being as his Animagi-form. The dementors didn't bother him much then. As a dog he didn't feel the loss and freight that strong. He wasn't that cold either. That was a big plus. In the beginning the awful smell of frighten men, urine and dirt was overwhelming, but he got used to it after a couple of weeks.

This time when James appeared he looked sad and worried. He looked around the cell with a grim expression, before settling his eyes on the dog on the floor.

"Sirius," the image of James mumbled. Sirius felt his heart quicken. It was the first time he could hear him without concentrating. Sirius got an overwhelming need to wave his tail, but there wasn't really any use. James wasn't real. The Shepard gave out a small sigh, from his stupidity. He laid a paw over his eyes.

_Please just go away_ , he thought. He couldn't take it anymore. Seeing James all the time, it was maddening. It made him long for him, and made the nightmares worse. Every time he started to think about James' smile, the dementors sucked it out of him and replaced it with the memory of James' cold, dead body.

_Please_ , he whimpered,  _leave me alone_. When he opened his eyes again, James was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

The following week James didn't surface. It wasn't unusual, so Sirius didn't think much out of it. He only felt lonely, and cold to his marrow. This wasn't unusual at this place either. Sirius just sat or laid on the floor, staring at the walls or ceiling, trying not to think about anything. That was the only way to survive this dreadful place. A week turned into two, two into a month, and Sirius started to get worried. He paced his room and mumbled his name again and again, begging him to come back. He didn't care that James was only an image of his imagination. He just needed to see him one more time.

The prisoner was restless. They were never allowed to step out of the cells. They were all looked up on as highly dangerous, and so none were ever allowed to step an inch out of the cells, in case they tried to escape. They all sat in their own filth, never allowed outside to take a shower. Sometimes the guards would come by and clean them with a spell, but it didn't give them the same feeling of being clean and refreshed like a long warm shower would do.

"James James James James James," he mumbled again and again. Trying to get James back with willpower. He visualized him in his mind, he remembers every crook and every inch of James face, but when he opened his eyes, James was still not there.

"Fuck," he swore out loud. Why didn't it work? James was just his imagination, so it should be easy to conjure him up again.

"Stop with yer mumblin' lad," said a gruffly voice. Sirius couldn't see who the voice belonged too, but he knew it belonged to one of the other prisoners. He ignored him and rubbed his eyes, trying to conjure James up.

"I said stop yer mumblin'," the voice said again, rather annoyed this time. "I've been hearin' yer mumblin' for weeks now. Startin' to get annoying."

Sirius just huffed in response. "Then don't listen to my mumbling then."

The other prisoner gave a small snort in amusement. "You have balls, lad. But seriously, if ye don't stop, I'm gonna kill someone." Sirius rolled his eyes.

"No you won't, George. You are in here for theft, not murder." A small grumbling sound came from the other cell. "Doesn't mean I can't kill anybody."

This time Sirius gave a small snort in amusement. "No you won't. You got caught trying to sell your grandmother's ducks made of rubies." George went quiet on the other side of the wall. After a couple of seconds he muttered: "I regret tellin' you that."

George was not the sharpest spoon in the drawer. He was in Azkaban because his grandmother was a highly rich and respected woman in the ministry of magic. She wanted to teach her grandson a lesson. George's grandmother was a harsh, but fair woman. He was only going spent a month in Azkaban. But that's more than enough for any living creature. While George had been there he and Sirius had had long conversations about the outside world. Well, mostly George would tell stories, and Sirius would listen to him. How he missed to be outside. He missed the smell of the forest, the feel of rain on his cheek, and eating hamburgers. Oh, how he missed eating hamburgers and fries. He missed sitting in his favorite bar and eat hamburgers and drink beer with his friends. George made all those old wounds flare up. But he didn't care. George helped him forget the empty feeling he had from James' loss.

"Who is this James person anyway?" George asked, effectively getting Sirius out of his thoughts. He didn't answer.

George waited a couple of seconds before he groaned. "Come on, lad. You basically know me life story. While I don't know a single thing about you. Not even yer name!" Sirius continued to be quiet. There was no point telling him anything. He'd be out in a week, while Sirius would sit here and rot. The silence lasted for two-three minutes before George broke it again.

"Come on. I'll buy yer a hamburger at Freya's when you get out if ye tell me," he said, alluringly. Sirius gave a snort of laughter. Like if he'd ever get out of this hell hole.

 _George,_  Sirius thought,  _was a strange person_. Even three weeks in here hadn't ruined his spirit. The first week all he had done was whimpering and crying out in pain and fear. Like every other person in here. Sirius hadn't really noticed the newcomer. All the other prisoners were curled up in their cell, living their own nightmares in the head. The beginning of the second week, George had started to talk to himself. Probably just a self mechanism, the need to hear something else then just the screaming of the others. Sirius knew the feeling well. Once when George had flippantly commented that he would really like a hamburger, Sirius had answered him. "You are not the only one." And that was the start of the two weeks friendship. When George first started to talk, there were no powers in the world to make him stop.

"How about yer name then? Can ye tell me yer name?" Sirius didn't answer and leaned his head on the wall. He gave a low sigh.  _James James James, where are you?_

"Yere no use. Bad conversation partner too. How about yer crime? What did you do? I already told yer my stupid ruby duck story. That reminds me, have I told you when I stole-" Sirius zoomed him out. Not so very interested in what George had to say.

"I loved him," he said with a soft voice. George went quiet on the other end. After a couple of seconds he asked with a low voice. "Loved?"

Sirius bobbed his head once, before remembering that George couldn't see him.

"I killed him."

The silence lasted for a long while, before George answered with an "Oh".

When the week was over and it was time for George to leave, Sirius was awake. He could hear the guards shuffling through the corridor from a long way. A couple minutes later they appeared by Sirius cell. He got a small glimpse of them before they disappeared again.

"You're time is up, Mr. Malpense." Said the dark voice of one of the guards.

"About time," George grumbled. "You know. Yer food here is terrible. Ye should feed yer prisoners better, lad. Or they'll starve from ye."

One of the guards huffed and opened the cell. Sirius couldn't see it, but he could hear it."It's not a luxury hotel. You are not supposed to enjoy the place."  _Scum._ One could clearly hear the sound of disgust in his voice. Some noise of movement could be heard, before the steps and noises started to move towards Sirius cell. One of the figures stopped in front of Sirius cell, and revealed a rather tall, blond haired, man. The man grinned at him.

"So that's how ye look like. Always wondered how ma conversation partner look like. Ye look rather pale, lad. Yere in a real need of a hamburger."

Sirius returned his smile. "How about you send me a hamburger when you get out, George? I'd appreciate it."

George nodded and widened his grin. "Will do lad, will do."

One of the guards grunted and started to shove George forwards. "Mr. Black isn't allowed any visitors or any gifts from the outside. He lost that right when he swore allegiance to the Dark Lord." The sneer was obvious in the guard's voice.

George widened his eyes. "Mr. Black? Ye mean  _the Sirius Black?!"_  He stared at Sirius with big eyes, and Sirius returned it with a small, sad smile.

"Guilty as charged."

"But…" George didn't get to say anything else. The guards shoved him forwards. Whatever George was going to say, Sirius never got to know. He stared after George and the guards.

He never received the hamburger.

…

…

A month turns into two. Sirius doesn't know what he's going to do. He really is alone now. Before he had always felt this presence, like if James was looking after him from beyond the grave. A stupid thought really, but he kept hold of it. He couldn't believe for a second that James was dead. Someone like him should never die.

But now, now Sirius is all alone. Not even his own imagination believes in him.  _Alone, all alone._  He stopped eating the few scraps they get for food. There is no point eating anymore. He knows he promised he'd take care of Harry, he is his godfather after all. But he can't take it anymore. Merlin knows how many years he has been here already. Time doesn't mean anything in this wrecked place.  _No,_  he has given up. He can't take this hollow existence with only pain and nightmares. He wants out. He wants to die so he can go to wherever James is. But he hardly think he'll get to go there. No, he thinks, they'll send him to hell. And even if he could go to wherever James is, James wouldn't want him anymore. He got them killed. He failed.

Sirius lays sprawled on the floor and stares up at the ceiling with vacate eyes. He hasn't move from his position the last two days. He listens to his heartbeat, and waits for it to stop with a last "Thump". For each "thump" there comes a next one. Again and again his heart says "thump". And it makes him wonder how long it will take to starve to death.

Sirius closes his eyes, he is getting tired and weak. And he just wants to sleep the deep sleep. There is nothing left for him here. Everyone hates him, Remus thinks he is a traitor, James is dead, and Harry probably doesn't even know who he is. And even if he does, James' son will hate him for killing his parents.

"James," he whispers. Again and again he whispers it, asking for forgiveness. Knowing it would never be granted.

"You look like shit."

Sirius opens his eyes in surprise. A moment there he thought he had heard James say something. He blinks his eyes, but no. The image of James standing over him doesn't disappear.

"James!" He yells in surprise. He has missed him so much, even if he isn't real. He rises fast, sways slightly, but remains standing on his feet.

"I missed you so much." He says with tears in his voice. He doesn't care that he looks and sound pathetic. He's just so glad to see him again. He takes his arms out to hug him, but his arms go straight through him, and Sirius hits the wall behind with an "ovfh". Sirius rubs his nose and gives out a low groan. Maybe not the smartest thing he has ever done. He looks back at James.

James is looking at him with a shocked expression. He just stands there, handsome as ever, and Sirius feels his heart quicken a pace.

 _You can see me?_  Mouths the image of James. He's saying it, but Sirius can't hear the words. But he imagines that's what the fake-James is trying to say. Sirius frowns a little.

"Of course I can see you, don't be silly." He rolls his eyes. Maybe he is hallucinating from fatigue? That would make sense, why his imaginary-James acts weird. Typical him, not even able to hallucinate right.

 _You can see me?_  Repeats the image of James. Like if he can't believe it. Sirius just snores in reply. He sits down on the bench and stretches.

 _Sirius!_  Whispers the voice of James in his head. He crouches down in front of Sirius, and looks like he wants to grab him and shake him until Sirius pay attention. The image's mouth opens and closes a couple of times, probably saying something more, but Sirius can't understand it. Neither is he paying any attention, he is just too happy to stare at James.  _Not alone anymore._

James looks almost desperate, and Sirius feels his heart ache a little. He doesn't like seeing James like that. He moves his arm and lays a hand in front of the hallucination's face.

"James," he murmurs. "Don't be sad. I know you are not real. There is no point pretending otherwise." He bobs his head a little. James looks conflicted at him. Emotions Sirius can't tell swirls around in the other man's eyes. This makes him frown. Why would his imagination have feelings? James gives out a small sigh and rises. He turns his back to Sirius.

Sirius bites his lip. He doesn't like it. He hasn't waited two months on James turning his back on him.

"James," He says and stretches his hand out, trying to grab him. Again his hand goes straight through him. James turns around a little startled, and gives him a sad smile.

 _It's me Padfoot_. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out, so Sirius has to read it off his lip. He doesn't believe him; he knows it's just a hallucination. He can't let himself hope for a second that it is James. That would only prove that he has lost his mind once and for all. James looks at him with a sad expression before turning away again. Sirius blinks his eyes once, and James is gone.

"James!" he yells. "Come back! Don't leave me again!" He scrambles up and reaches his arms towards the spot James stood, but he is no longer there. He sinks down to the floor, hides his hands and starts to cry. He doesn't want to be alone. Even his hallucination is abandoning him.  _James_ , he whimpers again.  _James_.

James returns a couple of days later. He looks with a sad expression down at the dog on the floor.  _Sirius. What are you doing to yourself?_

Sirius lifts his dog head and wiggles his tail tiredly in greeting. He is so tired. Doing that small movement made his head spin, and he lets his head fall down on his paws again. His grey dog eyes are still locked on James. He hasn't eaten anything yet, he doesn't see the point. For every hour that passes he feels weaker and weaker, he feels a step closer to James.

James crouches down and lays a hand on the dog's head, careful so it doesn't go through him.

"Please don't do this to yourself, Sirius." James sounds sad, and Sirius realizes that he can hear him, not as a whisper in the back of his head like he always did, but as a real voice. He wiggles his tail again in responds.

"You are going to die if you don't eat anything soon." James continues to say.  _That's the point,_  Sirius wants to answer. But doesn't have enough strength to turn back into his human form and say it out loud.

James gives out a small growl. "You are an idiot!" Again Sirius doesn't answer him, just content staring at him. Suddenly the bench in the corner flies through the air and hits the wall with a loud noise. The splinters bounce off the walls and around the room. Sirius jumps up with a yelp and tries to duck under the flying splinters. He hides under the blanket, trying to find refuge. When the sound of the last splinter falling on the floor can be heard, Sirius dares to look up again. He looks at James with big eyes. How did that happen?

James has is his eyes closed and is ruffling up his hair. He opens his eyes and looks down at the dog. "I'm sorry Sirius. I can't control it at times." He gives him a small smile. "Are you hurt?" Sirius shakes his head a little in shock. Has he really lost it that much?

His imaginary friend bobs his head a little. "I'm glad I didn't hurt you." He smiles softly at the dog, and Sirius feels his heart quicken again. James looks so beautiful when he smiles.

"Now. You are going to eat something, even if I have to force it down your throat. Got that mate?" James gives him a stern look. He leans down and picks up a plate with some food on it and crouches down by the dog again. He picks up some of the food and holds it against the dog's muzzle. Sirius opens his mouth and a start chewing on the piece offered to him. He stares at him with big eyes. Could it be possible that he isn't imagining all of this? Could it be possible that James is… that James is  _real?_

They continue like that in silence. James makes encouraging noises and Sirius eating the few scraps of food. When he is done he sits up. He waggles his tail in gratitude and sticks his tongue out, trying to lick James' cheek. The tongue goes straight threw him, making James giving out a small bark of laughter.

"Sorry Padfoot. But I'm still dead." He gives him a sad smile and pats the dog's head carefully. Sirius can't feel it, but it's the thought that count. Sirius gives out a sad whine. He wants to ask James why is here, how he is here, but he doesn't have enough strength to turn back into a human. He is too tired. He sinks down on the floor again and leans his head on his paws. He stares up at James and waggles his tail again. James gives him a soft smile.

"Get some rest, Sirius. You need to get your strength back." The dog gives out a small whine in protest, not wanting to fall asleep. But his eyes close after a while against his will. For the first time in Merlin knows how many years, he sleeps peacefully.

When Sirius opens his eyes again, James is still there. He is giving him an amused smile. Sirius soon gets distracted by a delicious smell. The smell comes from a small bag and he grabs it with two hands, not noticing that he turned back into a human when he slept. He takes the bag under his nose and takes a long breath.

"Hamburgers!" He quickly takes one out and takes a big bite of the lukewarm hamburger, making a long content noise. The next couple of minutes his attention is on the hamburgers and fries in the bag. How he has missed the taste. He eats until he's completely full and lay back on the floor. It feels good having his stomach full like that again. After a couple of more minutes he sits up again and looks at James.

"James?"

James fixes his gaze at him again and gives him a small nod. "Yeah?"

"I don't know if I can imagine eating a hamburger like that. Are you… Are you really... here?" He gives a small frown, not knowing how to say it.

James gives him a small smile. "Yeah, Sirius. I really am here." Sirius licks his lips. "How?" he asks with a low voice. James shakes his head in respond.

"Honestly? I have no idea. I just never passed on for some weird reason. But I suppose I just wanted to know that you and Harry were alright before I leave." A soft smile appears on his lips. Sirius feels himself smile in respond.

"We are alright Prongs, you can move on now." This makes James laugh. "Yeah right. You almost starved to death without me, Sirius. How do you expect me to leave you like this?" He gives a small snort.

Sirius grins in respond. "It's not that bad. I've done worse things."

James chuckles a little before looking more thoughtful. Sirius bites his lip. Not really knowing what to say or do now. For so long he had thought he had hallucinated James, that he was losing his mind. And now James was really here, and he isn't sure what to ask first.

"Do you hate me?"

The spirit looks up a little startled, he had been in his own thoughts. "What?"

"Do you hate me?" Sirius repeats, softly. He is staring on his lap, not knowing what to hope and what to think. Everything is silent for a couple of minutes. And for every second that ticks Sirius feels his chest tighten.  _I knew it, he hates me_. He rubs his eyes, trying not to cry in front of James. He doesn't want to show him how much it hurts, even though he knows he deserves it.

"No," James says in the end. "I don't hate you Sirius. It's all of us' fault, and none of us." Sirius looks at him with a confused expression.

"What do you mean by that?"

The spirit gives a little sigh. "It's my fault for getting Lily killed for numerous of reasons. For trusting Peter, for dropping my wand that day. Heck, it's my fault for getting Lily knocked up and pregnant." He smiles a sad, lop-sided smile. "It's your fault for saying no to be my secret-keeper, and for trusting Peter and not Remus. We can point fingers at everyone Sirius. But let's not live in the past. What's done is done."

Sirius just looked confused. "I would have hated me if I was you. No matter what you did wrong, it's all because I started the chain."

James rolls his eyes. "Sirius, listen to me. I could never hate you. No matter what." Sirius still frowns, but nodes reluctantly. He understands, he could never hate James for anything. He had screwed up in six grades with Snape, but still James and the Marauders had forgiven him. He really doesn't deserve friends like that. He really doesn't deserve James. Sirius let's his head roll forward and starts to weep silently. He's just so relieved that James forgives him, he has been so scared for years that James hated him.

"Thank you," he sobs. "Thank you."

James pats his head carefully. "There is nothing to say thank you for, Sirius." He gives him a soft smile.

The next couple of weeks James and Sirius use talking about everything under the sky. They talk about their childhood in Hogwarts and the pranks they made. They mourn friends and family they have lost. James tells about how Harry is doing, and how his un-life as a ghost. Almost every time James comes he has a little treat with him. Sometimes hamburgers and sometimes candy: honeydukes, sugar quills, Bertie bott's jelly beans. Slowly Sirius get's his strength back and his weight up. He doesn't look so skinny and hollow anymore. He doesn't get his color back though; it's hard without sunlight and fresh air. But he feels much better then he has in who knows how long?

As Sirius got stronger, it got harder to both see and hear James. Because of this he always keeps himself half starved. Who needs food when he can talk to James?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have hedgehogs in my garden, and the cub was just so adorable and it wasn't afraid, it willingly came over to sniff my hand. and so this story came to mind.

__

It was a sunny day, and too hot for anyone to be inside the house. The wind was chilly and swept over the Dursley's garden. The emerald green grass shone slightly in the heat and swayed a little from the calm wind. Among the green grass a little boy sat and played with some broken toys. He didn't care that they were broken, they were just as good even if they missed their head or a foot. No one was paying attention to him, the grown ups were too busy reading today's paper and chatting among themselves. The raven haired boy was used to be neglected and was doing fine on his own, but just in case James was holding an eye on his five-year old son.

James had managed to pursue the Dursley's to let Harry outside. Yesterday had been a hot day as well, but Harry hadn't been allowed to step a foot outside the door. He had stared longingly out the windows, watching the other kids play in one of the neighbor's swimming pool. The entire night Dudley had done nothing but to talk excitingly about his day, and Harry had looked crushed down in his plate, not being allowed outside to play. James had spent most of the night whispering into Petunia and Vernon's ear. When the morning came Vernon had promptly ordered Harry out in the garden, saying that only spoiled kids stayed inside in such a warm weather, and that he didn't want Harry inside before dinner. Harry had practically beamed at his uncle and ran out. He didn't care he wasn't allowed to go with Dudley to the swimming pool, he was just overjoyed that he could play in the garden, as he loved the garden.

There James had found is son playing a couple of hours later. He was happy that it had worked, he hated seeing his son sad and alone. The child giggled and moved a legless cowboy around, fighting imaginary monsters. At times he would look up at James and beam at him happily, like if he could tell that the spirit was there. Every time James felt this warm feeling sprout inside of him. He loved seeing that Harry was so happy for just these small things that James could do for him.

James looked around thoughtfully. It was really a gorgeous garden. With pretty flowers in every color and shape. The spirit could see roses, red and white and yellow ones. He could see green and blue lilies, pink and purple petunias, and lots of others James couldn't place. He didn't really know that much about flowers. But it was pretty none the less. In the middle of the garden there stood a big cherry blossom tree. Right now the flowers where in full bloom, giving the garden an almost magical look. When the breeze shook the branches, pedals would fall off and float in the air. When that happened Harry would jump up and try to catch the pink pedals. The cherry tree had been bought three years later and it was beautiful. James imagined that his wife would fit perfectly into the garden. He could imagine her sitting by the flower beds and dig in the soil to plant lilies, thay were her favorites. The spirit smiled to himself. If only he could'v bought her a garden like this.

James looked back at his son, only to discover that he was gone. He looked around with big eyes, trying to locate his son. "Harry?" He called uncertain. He knew the little boy couldn't hear him, but he yelled non the less. "Harry?!"

A giggle reached his ears and he looked around ones more, less alarmed this time. He followed the noise and found his son sitting under the cherry blossom. Around him stood four hedgehogs. A mother and her three kids. The mother had curled herself into a protective ball, while the three kids looked at Harry curiously. Harry stuck his hand forward and giggled again when one of them sniffed his hand. "What's your name?" The little boy asked. The hedgehog look curiously back at Harry, and stuck his nose against the warm skin. They both jumped a little before Harry giggled and patted it's head carefully, careful not to hit the spikes.

James chuckled slightly and crouched down. "Careful Harry. They might look innocent, but the spikes hurt."

The other two hedgehog children trudged towards him curiously. One of them made a small sound. Harry giggled. "I think I'll call you Robert." He said to the one who made that noise. "Robert is one of the neighbors dog, he's little and always bark. So keep away from him, alright?" The little boy explained. "Robert" cocked his head and made a little noise again. The mother hedgehog looked up from where she was curled up, but didn't move any closer. Harry looked at the mother and beamed. "I'll call you Lily, mama headhok, that's my mama's name." The little boy practically beamed at it. James widened his eyes a little in surprise, before smiling down at his boy.

"Yeah. Lily is a great name."

Harry continued naming the other two. One he named spike, because he had spiky quills and the last one he named Angelina, as it was only fit that they were two girls and two boys in the family.

The little boy played a little with the hedgehoga, but he was careful with them. After a while the mother stared to push on the children, as she wanted to get going. Robert made a little sad sound before following Lily. Angeline ran up to her mother and rubbed her body against her mothers quills. Little Spike stood left and stared sadly up at Harry. Harry smiled back at him with tearful eyes.

"It's alright, go with your mama. I'll see you another time, okay?" The child stroke a finger over the spikes before rubbing his eyes. Spike stared at him for a couple of more seconds, before turning around and running after his family.

James and Harry sat staring after the hedgehog family. The raven haired boy sniffed and waved his hand after them. The spirit smiled at his son and patted his head. "It's alright, Harry. Don't be sad." They sat there until they disappeared under a shrub. Harry picked up his cowboy doll and started to play with it, less enthusiastic then before. The father smiled softly and closed his eyes, ready to pass on again. He was tired and exhausted, and Harry didn't need him.

A loud screech made the spirit open his eyes again. Before he could react, Harry jumped up on his feet and ran towards the bushes. James swore and followed him quickly. There, on the other side of the fence, the hedgehog family was surrounded by a big snake. Lily laid on the ground, a bleeding wound over her stomach, where the snake had attacked. The three children whimpered and stood behind their mother, shivering in fright. Angelina had curled up in a small ball next to her mother, while little Robert cried loudly. Spike stood protectively in front of his siblings, growling.

The snake hissed and moved closer to the three children, he tightened his body and made himself ready to attack again. Harry started crying. "No! Don't harm them!" He tried to climb over the fence, but he was too little. James looked at them with a lost expression, there was nothing he could do to save the hedgehog family.

"Harry," he mumbled. "Go back to the garden, please." He tried to push his son, but his hand only went straight through him. Harry didn't move, he looked up at his angel and cried. "You have to save them! You can't let them die." The spirit felt his chest tighten and look down with a sad expression.

"Please, Harry. Go back to the garden." He tried pushing him again, but it didn't work. Harry wouldn't move, he just stood crying, staring at the snake and the four defenseless hedgehogs. Lily tried to stand to protect her cubs, but was quickly hit by the snake's tail and pushed away from her children. Normally hedgehogs would have no problem beating a snake, they are usually enemies as the hedgehogs eats snakse. But this snake had taken her by surprise and she had tried to protect her little cubs.

The snake turned towards the three children and hissed in glee this time. Robert started crying even more and moved backwards, away from the snake. Angelina stayed curled up on the ground, hoping her little quills would protect her. The snake loomed over her and opened its mouth, to big fangs appeared and he moved forward, ready to gulp the little cub up. Suddenly Spike jumped on his face and tried to stick his spike's into the snake's eyes. The snake hissed angrily and shook his head, and little Spike was thrown into the bushes. Robert cried.

Harry started to sob in earnest now and yelling for the snake to stop and for James to help them. James tried to stand in front of Harry to block his view, but it didn't work as Harry looked straight through him. The spirit felt so useless and powerless. There was nothing he could do to help or to shield Harry from the sight.

The snake moved towards Angelina again, ignoring the crying human on the other side of the fence.

"No! Stop it, don't hurt her!" Harry cried. James crouched down and took his arms around his son, careful so his arms didn't went through him. "Close your eyes, Harry. Please close your eyes," he begged, but Harry did no such thing. Suddenly a hiss escaped his son's lips, ans the snake froze. The snake looked curiously towards the crying child. He hissed. Harry nodded at the snake and hissed something back. The snake gave a slight nod, before turning around and disappearing into the forest. James stared after the snake with big eyes. He looked back at his son and let his hands fall.

"Harry? What did you just do?" The boy stared after the snake and gave a little wave before turning towards the hedgehogs. He lowered himself down on the ground and smiled at Robert.

"Don't worry, Robert. The snake won't hurt you again. She promised. She just didn't want you guys anywhere near her nest and eat her children. She just wanted to protect her children." Harry smiled softly and stood. Robert looked up at him and blinked his eyes.

"Meep?" Harry nodded and started to walk backwards. "Bye Robert. Bye Angie, bye Lily." He looked over to the bush that Spike had been thrown into. The little hedgehog looked out from the bush and started to limp towards his family. "Bye Spike." With that the boy turned around and walked out of the shrubs. James sat staring after his son. Had he just seen what he just saw? Had his son just talked to that snake? James shook his head. No, he must have seen wrong. Harry couldn't have the gift of parseltongue. None of his family had ever had that ability. It just had to be a coincidence.

The spirit stood and looked down at the hedgehogs with a thoughtful expression. The kids surrounded Lily and started to lick the wound. Little Robert was still whimpering softly. James looked away and closed his eyes. Hopefully the mother would survive, no child should ever be without the mother. A couple of seconds later, James disappeared, too exhausted to stay any longer.


	7. Chapter 7

The room was dark. The only source of light came from the cracks under the curtains by the window, from a lamppost. Every time a car drove past, the room would be illuminated with an eerie yellow glow, and for a few seconds you could see everything in the room. In the corner there was a big, white wardrobe, crammed with expensive and nice clothes. Next to it was an ordinary, brown cabinet. Each of the three drawers was filled with shirts, socks and underwear. All of them was neatly folded and placed in the drawers with precision. The owner of the items was a really neat and proper woman. She did not handle chaos, and liked to have things laid in correct order so that it would be easy to find.

The walls in the room was painted white and covered with a couple of family pictures. Most of the pictures contained a big, beefy man with a large purple face. He had thick, dark hair, a bushy moustache, with hardly any neck and small, and blue mean eyes. Next to him stood a thin, blonde-haired woman with pale eyes and with nearly twice the usual amount of neck. In front of them, sitting on a little chair, was an extremely fat child. He had watery blue eyes and thick blond hair. And looked like a pig in a wig.

If you squinted you could see a small scrawny child in the corner in some of the pictures.

Occupying most of the room was a big bed. When unused the cover would be folded with precision, and a white, flower-decorated blanket, with matching pillows, was placed upon. Giving the room a womanly, but tidy, touch.

For the moment the bed was occupied. A rather impressive loud snore came from one of the figures in the bed. For each intake of air the duvet rose high up before falling down again. Almost like a phoenix trying to fly for the first time, but never manage to take the first step. Next to the big, snoring man, laid a frailer looking figure (In comparison). Petunia hardly moved or made any noise in her sleep, she looked almost like a log lying there.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley slept soundly in the belief that they were safe and sound in their little house at number four Privet drive. But they weren't alone in their bedroom. By the door stood a tall dark figure. The figure, almost a shadow, stood gazing down at the two creatures in the bed. After a couple of second the shadow started to creep towards the bed. He made no sound and didn't hurry himself. He had all the time in the world. The shadow stopped next to the sleeping form of Petunia. A small shiver of annoyance disrupted the air, before being smothered so as not to wake anyone. The dark shadow leaned down over the small figure, opened his mouth and whispered: "Hold a party for Harry on his birthday. Bake a cake, Petunia. Caaaaake."

Petunia shifted a little in her sleep before mumbling very softly "cake." James nodded in satisfaction and leaned back up. He had been doing this for the last couple of weeks now. He had found it easier to influence the Dursley when they were asleep. It wasn't always it worked, and so he had planned this for weeks. Almost every night he would come by and whisper in their ear to remind them that Harry's birthday was coming up, and without them really noticing it, they had started making preparations. Harry's birthday was just a couple of days away, and invitations had been sent, balloons and party hats and decorations had been bought in and hidden away from the kids. James had even coaxed them into buying Harry some new clothes for his birthday. Clothes that actually fit.

James was looking forward to the party. It would be Harry's first real party, and so James wanted it to be perfect. It saddened him that Harry got his first at eight, but he hadn't had the strength, or the idea, before now. The spirit could choose where he wanted to go, but it usually took a lot of power to do so, and it left him tired for days. Usually he just went with the flow; it was lots easier and less tiring. He had had to conserve his energy for months, and so loosing weeks where he didn't know where he had been or what had happen around him, to get energy for this plan to work. He hated the time in the black void. He could never tell how long he would be gone, or if he would ever come back, and so he usually resisted when the pull came. He still couldn't be too long at a place; his record was about an hour.

When James was done with Petunia he walked around the bed and leaned down over Vernon. Here he continued the whispering about the party, before ending it with a warning not to harm his son.

James leaned back and looked around the room. He imagined that this was how Lily would like to have hers. Pictures of family on the walls, smiling picture of Harry in different situations and age. Furthermore they would have pictures of their friends, the smiling moving images of Sirius and Remus, Frank and Alice. Everyone they loved and cherished. On the nightstand she would have a picture of their wedding day. James looking handsome in his tuxedo, with his big grin and twinkling eyes, shining of mischief. By his side would Lily stand in her white wedding dress. Her emerald eyes almost shone like a star from the happiness. Her hair was fiery red, giving a big contrast to the dark figure of himself.

James felt a sickening feeling in his stomach. He missed her so much. He missed holding around her and kiss her. He missed hearing her laugh and smile. She was like fire and ice. And so so beautiful. Who would ever want to destroy her? The world was a darker place without Lily.

James turned around and walked straight through the door. In the beginning this had freaked him out, to no longer be attached to the world. But over the years he had just gotten used to it. It was either that or lose his mind. He started to walk down the stairs, he could sink through the floor if he concentrated, but he hated doing that. It made him feel even more dead and empty inside.

The spirit continued down and into the room under the stairs. The place was just as cramped and dusty as always. The only thing that had changed was that the baby crib been replaced with a bed. There was scattered around some personal belongings, a couple of too-big clothes and some toys James had taken with him. In the bed, looking almost too little for it, laid Harry. He looked even frailer in the big bad then Petunia looked next to her husband. The boy was curled up and had almost a painful frown over his face.

James gave a low, sad sigh.  _Another nightmare._  He went over the bed and sat carefully down on it, at times it surprised him that he didn't fall straight through the bed, but it was probably of the same reason he could walk up the stairs. He still believed in a materialistic world where he could touch and change things, and so the illusion that it exist for him passed over into his life as a spirit. Sometimes he mused that if he stopped believing that the world was materialistic, then it would cease to be. No. The entire thing just gave him a headache. He never was a thinker when he was alive, that's what he had Remus for in his earlier year, and his wife for. Nope, he was a more of a 'carpe diem' person.

James focused back on Harry when he gave a low whimper. "Harry," he mumbled. It was so easy to be side noted by everything that came to his mind. What else were there to do when you had no one to talk to?

The spirit laid a hand on Harry's brow and mumbled his name again. "It's going to be alright, Harry. Daddy is here now". He gave a soft smile. "I'll keep you safe."

Almost immediately the boy calmed down, and the sight made James feel warm inside. He stroked his son's hair carefully. And there he sat until he can feel the pull drawing him back into the white hazy light.

 _Sleep well, Harry_. He whispered before disappearing, leaving the sleeping form alone with his dreams.

…

…

It was Harry's birthday today, and he was really excited. He had seen Dudley celebrate with his mates a lot of times. They always had balloons and party hats and cakes and candy. Everyone was smiling and giving his cousin presents. And now it was finally his turn to have a birthday party. He's eight today and a big boy. Big boys deserve to have parties and funny party hats and cake. And Harry just couldn't wait for the guests to arrive. He had never been invited to a birthday party before; Dudley threatens everyone not to invite him. It hurts when that happens, but right now he was just too happy to be sad. The house had smelled of cooking and sweets all morning, the decorations had been put up, the table set, and now, half an hour before the guests would arrive, Harry was dressed and ready, sitting on the high table with his birthday hat on. A big happy smile was plastered on his face.

Why his aunt and uncle were holding him a birthday party, was a big mystery. Uncle Vernon had suddenly mentioned it a couple of weeks ago, in big surprise for Harry, they had never acknowledged his birthday before. And for an even bigger shock for Harry, Aunt Petunia had agreed to the suggestion. Over the next couple of weeks his aunt and uncle had started bringing home decorations and items needed to hold a party. Of course, it wasn't as half as good quality or money they would have used on Dursley. But Harry didn't care about that. Every day he had expected that the Dursleys would say that they lied or that it's just a trick, or maybe they would change their mind. But it was still happening. The Dursley hadn't changed their mind, and Harry would finally have his first birthday party. His entire class was invited and maybe they would realize that Harry wasn't such a bad person and wanted to be his friend? He hoped so.

Harry looked over to his Guardian Angel. He could sense that he was there. The boy gave a big smile. "Thank you," he whispered. He knew that the angel was the reason for this party. He did something to uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia, and he was really really grateful. "Thank you." He repeated.

A warm happy feeling erupted from the angel. Harry could feel it in the air, like a warm blanket that encircled him. His invisible friend was obviously happy for him, and Harry was grateful that he could celebrate his birthday with him. It wouldn't be a party without his angel. Sometimes he imagined that the angel looking over him was sent by his parents to look after him. When he sat and prayed on his bed he always asked the angel to give his love to his parents, and when he had gone to sleep, he could imagine hearing a male voice telling him stories. He usually couldn't hear what the voice said, but sometimes, if he concentrated, he could hear him talk.

Harry looked at the watch; it was only fifteen minutes left before guests came. Aunt Petunia shuffled into the living room, holding a big birthday cake. She eyed Harry slightly before placing the cake on the table.

"Don't be too noisy now, Harry. Or you'll be house arrested for the rest of the year. Understood?" She gave him a stern look. Harry only nodded in respond, still having his big grin. It hadn't been the first, not to mention the twenties, time the grown-ups had warned him. Petunia gave a small nod and turned around to head back to the kitchen.

Harry looked at the cake with big eyes. He had never gotten a cake for himself. No one had ever made one for him. Sometimes when he was over at Ms. Figgs house, she would give him dry cake for a treat. But that didn't matter that much as long as he got some. But now, now he had a cake all by himself. There even stood "Happy birthday Harry!" on it.

The doorbell rang five minutes over two, and before the sound had quiet down, Harry was halfway across the living room and almost ran into the door in excitement. He had never been so excited in his entire life. He tore the door up. "WEL-" he started to say, but froze immediately in disappointment. It was only the mailman who wanted a signature on a delivery. Harry called for his aunt and turned back into the living room, to continue to wait for the guests.

Fifteen minutes later. Still no one had come, and Harry was starting to feel nervous. What if no one came? He couldn't believe it. Who wouldn't come for free cake and ice-cream? He gave a little sniff and started to rub an eye.

 _It's going to be alright, Harry. They a probably just late._  Murmured a soft voice. Harry looked up and gave a slight nod to the angel.

"Yeah," he said hopefully, "just late." He could feel the angel smile, and smiled back.

Another twenty minutes passed, and still no sign of any guests. Harry was trying to stay positive. Maybe they had just put down the wrong time on the invites? So the guests would arrive at three and not two. Harry hoped so, and so kept telling himself that.

James wasn't as positive though. He was certain something had to be behind all of this. He was certain that Petunia had written down two o'clock, but as he hadn't been there at the time, he couldn't be one hundred percent sure. The spirit really hoped someone would come soon, seeing Harry so sad like this was breaking his un-beating heart. He wished he hadn't gotten this stupid idea in the first place. What had he been thinking?! Of course, he had wanted Harry to have a real and proper birthday party. He had wanted his son to smile and have fun, to get friends. But now, now it seemed that the idea had been a terrible one. It would have been better if Harry never had a party, so he didn't need to get crushed like that.

_Stupid! Stupid!_

James couldn't blame anyone then himself one this. Together with his son he watched the clock turn two, then five over two, ten over two. The clock tick-tocked, and the hands on the clock was the only thing that changed. After twenty more minutes of waiting, Harry gave up. He curled up on his seat and started to sob silently, something he had learned to do so as not to get yelled at by his uncle or bullied by his classmates. The child's shoulder vibrated a little and he had hidden his face so that no one could see him cry.

"Harry. Oh Merlin Harry." James said in distress. What had he done?  _What have I done?_  He moved over to his son and stood there not knowing what he could do. He wanted to take his arms around his son and rock him against his chest. He wanted to mumbled that he loved him and that everything was going to be alright. Most of all he just wanted to cry. He was a terrible father, what father does this to his own child? All James wanted was to make Harry happy, instead he broke the poor boy's heart.

James laid a hand carefully at Harry's shoulder, but let is soon fall after a strong sob, which made the shoulder go straight through James' hand. The spirit sighed sadly. He'd never even thought about the possibility that none would show up. It was unthinkable that something like this would ever happen.  _Harry. I'm so very sorry. I didn't-. I couldn't-._  He shook his head and looked out the window. What he saw made him narrow his gaze.

There, on the other side of the road, stood six children. In the middle stood the chubby form of Harry's cousin, and James' nephew, Dudley. Around him stood six of his friends, they were all broad-shouldered, big for the age, and wore rather nasty grins. James gave a low growl. Of course, everything mad sense now. Dudley and his so called friends must have threatened everyone not to come to Harry's birthday party, just as they did with everyone spending time with his son. Pure rage poured into the ghost. He was so angry! What cruel, selfish, spoiled child would do such a thing?

All that stood in James' head was revenge; all other thoughts were quickly drowned in the anger that had boiled inside of him for years.  _Calm down James, they are just kids_ , said a small voice in his head, but it too was drowned in the flames of anger. Before James knew it, he had gone through the wall and started towards the six boys. As he got closer he could hear small conversations from them.

"This must be the smartest plan we have ever come up with," said a blond, grinning child. This was answered with laughter from the other boys and nods of agreements.

"Yeah. Took the dork almost two hours before realizing that no one would come to his lame party," laughed another boy.

"This'll teach him," said Dudley. James didn't know and didn't care what the other kids name was." I dunno what my parents thought. Giving the weirdo a birthday party." Dudley made a grimace, and the other children nodded in agreement. "I've been asking them to stop this nonsense for weeks. Its ridiculous. They even made him a cake. A cake! Can you believe that?" Dudley shook his head, making his double chin tremble. Dudley Dursley had always been a spoiled child, getting everything he pointed at. That his parents took noticed of Harry and started to treat him better, made the other boy jealous and pissed. His parents were supposed to spoil him! And so he hatched the plan with his friends to destroy the party.

"And now that no one came to my pathetic cousin's party. The cake will be all ours!" The boys cheered, but it was abruptly stopped when a flying log hit two of the children straight in their stomach, throwing them backwards into a shrub. The remaining four boys stared in surprise, before barking with laughter.

"Ye fell on yer butt!" Bellowed one of the boys. Soon he too was thrown into the shrub.

James glared at the laughing boys. Oh he wanted to hurt them so bad, he wanted them to suffer like they made his son do. But a part of him kept him from doing anything he'd regret later. All he wanted right now was to set them all on fire, and just watch while the kids screamed in pain and their faces start to melt. The fire inside of him demanded to be free, and punish the cruel kids. A sharp wind started to blow around them, and the kids' laughter soon turned into horror.

"It's the evil spirit!" one of them called. A year earlier they had forced Harry into the forest, and made him stay the night. The six children had then dressed up as a ghost and went into the forest to scare Harry. Needles to say they ended up being scared out of their minds, most of them (Including Dudley) had peed on themselves. James had to admit that it had felt good scaring them. Ever since Harry was four the boys had made fun of him and pulled cruel pranks on him. Usually James got there in time and saved Harry from the kids' cruelty, but he couldn't be there always. Some nights Harry would cry himself to sleep, talking about the bulling in school. James hated to see Harry like that. His son deserved so much better.

James flung an arm towards them, and the sharp wind hurled another two boys backwards into the concrete. One of them yelled "mama!", but the angry spirit didn't take notice. He stopped in front of the shivering form of Dudley and growled angrily.

"Please don't hurt me!" Cried the fat child and fell down on his knees, holding his hand in prayer. "Don't hurt me. I haven't done anything. I swear I swear!"

James gazed down for a couple of seconds before he let his hand fall down.  _What am I doing? He's just a child_. He shook his head in sadness and looked down on his hand. He couldn't believe he had actually tried to hurt the kids. He closed his eyes.  _It's getting worse._  He felt like he was losing it at times to the anger burning deep inside of him, for every year that past it just got worse.

The spirit focused back on the quivering child.

"I'll do anything! Just don't hurt me, nice, good spirit. We'll never go into your forest again." Dudley nodded eagerly, and the other boys quickly followed Dudley's saying. The other kids had moved into a sitting position and holding their hands pleadingly up while James had been distracted. They all had big watery eyes, some of them even had a few cuts and brushers here and there.  _Merlin. What was I thinking? I could have hurt someone._

James closed his eyes a little and concentrated, a couple of seconds later the sharp wind disappeared, and the kids sagged their shoulders in relief. The kids didn't move from their position on the ground though, they kept looking about with innocent eyes. James looked at them thoughtfully for a second before whispering in the wind.

" _Go to Harry's birthday party_." The six boys looked confused at each other for a couple of seconds. Wondering why the spirit wanted them to do that. The youngest of them took a trembling hand up in the air. "D-do we h-have too?"

_YES!_

The wind blew sharp again, and the children jump quickly up and ran towards the house, not wanting to get the ghost angry again. The six of them scrambled in the door and towards the living room, making Harry look up in confusion and surprise, wondering what they wanted. The birthday boy quickly wiped out his tears with his sleeve.

"What do you want, Dudley?" Harry said suspiciously, not particularly in the mood for his cousin right now. Dudley looked nervously around before focusing on Harry.

"We've come to celebrate your birthday with you." The boys nodded eagerly, which made Harry even more suspicious.  _They are probably up to something_ , Harry thought. His birthday was already ruined, he did not need it to be a catastrophe. "Why?"

"Because. Erh. Because we like you?" said one of them. This earned him a strange glance from the other boys, including Harry.

"No you don't." Harry pursed his lips.

"Please?"

Harry looked thoughtful at them. Why would they want to do anything with him? No one else wanted to, and he knew they hated his guts.

"Do you have presents for me then?"

The boys looked at each other in confusion. "Presents?" Harry nodded. "Yeah. You are supposed to have presents for the birthday boy. If you don't have any presents, then you can't be at my party."

Dudley stared at his cousin, opened his mouth to say that he didn't want to be at his bloody party anyway, but thought better of it and closed his mouth quickly. He looked around at his friends and mouthed  _presents?_  The kids stared back, before sticking their hands in their pockets, trying to find something to give.

"Aha!" said a blond haired kid and held out a yoyo towards Harry. "Happy birthday Harry," he said relieved. Now the evil spirit wouldn't come and hunt him. Soon the other five children handed out a pack of gum, a couple of coins, a dead frog and slingshot towards Harry. The birthday boy took the things, except for the dead frog, telling the boy he was given it by that it was alright. Harry laid the things on the table and nodded at the bullies. "Welcome to my birthday party."

The boys smiled relived and sat down around the table.

_Birthday song._

The boys jumped up again, looked at each other, before starting to sing as loud as they could, in case the spirit couldn't hear it. "Happy birthday to you!"

Harry looked at them in surprise, not expecting that. He looked around, before settling his gaze out the window. He could tell that his angel was out there. "Thank you," he mouthed. It might not be the persons he wanted to celebrate his birthday with, but at least he wasn't alone.

James gave a little nod in respond, glad he did something right. He closed his eyes, he was so tired and exhausted. He had never been 'awake' for two hours in a row. He had fought the pull of the other world all the way, and using energy to punish the six boys had drained the last of what he had. The spirit could no longer fight it, and neither did he want too. He was going to sleep for a long time now. And he deserved it too.

 _If I never come back,_  he whispered softly into the sky _, I'm at least grateful I could do this for him_. He shot a last look into the window, watching his son blow out the candle on the cake, before the whiteness of the other world devoured him.

_Happy birthday Harry._


	8. Chapter 8

The day was cold. The wind blew harshly through the trees above, howling angrily in the otherwise silent air. The sky was a bleak grey, churning with mist that threatened with rain. The graveyard was abandoned but for a lone man that stood amongst the graves on the site.

The man had a brown hood covering his face, trying to find protection from the sharp wind. His clothes were shabby and looked worn. A patch on the knees had been sawn over twice. The man took his hood down, showing a tired and ruff face. A couple of scars, some new and some old, crossed over the otherwise handsome face. His hair looked greasy, giving the sand colored hair a darker color, telling that it has been a couple of days since the last time he showered. Even at the early age his light brown hair was flecked with grey.

Remus Lupin swung a bag off his shoulder and put it down on the ground. The bag looked even more worn then the man carrying it. He stuck his hand inside it and started to fumble around, looking for something. A couple of seconds later he made a triumphed sound and withdrew his hand, holding around a small figure.

Remus turned his gaze on the grave in front of him. It was made of white marble, and was glowing slightly in the dark shadow of the afternoon. A soft, sad smile appeared on the man's lips. He stroked a finger over the name written on the grave, before letting it fall.

"I was in Paris recently. I know how you and Lily always talked about traveling to Paris, after the war ended." The smile disappeared and got switched out with a sad sigh. "I've been traveling all over the place, trying to find work, but it hasn't been easy. Anyhow, I found a small book store in Paris and worked there for a couple of weeks. The owner was this nice old lady who always had with her fresh baked cookies and chocolate-filled croissants. It's the best ones I've ever tasted. I liked it there, but… I couldn't stay long." He turned quiet and sat staring down on the ground, reliving memories he didn't want to share.

James stood gazing down at his friend with a sad expression. It wasn't often he saw his old friend, and every time he did, Remus looked more tired and exhausted than ever. His pale face with premature lines worried him. And it didn't seem like if Remus had changed clothes since the last time he saw him.  _How long has it been old friend?_ A couple of months he mused, if not longer. He only saw Remus the few times the werewolf came to the graveyard, which had been only a handful of times over the years.

"Remus," James whispered, trying to catch his attention, but the other man didn't even look up. So far it hadn't shown if Remus could sense or hear him, but James assumed he couldn't. It had taken Sirius and Harry a long time before they could sense him, and because he hadn't spend much time with Remus, there was a slim chance that the brown-haired man shared their ability.

"Anyway. I bought you something."

James focused back at Remus as he laid a small replica of the Eiffel tower on the grave. "Since you can't travel to Paris, I brought back a piece of Paris to you."

James gave a little chuckle and looked at his friend with a fond smile. "Thank you Remus. We appreciate it. Seems like Lily and I finally got to see the Eiffel tower." Lily and he had always talked about going to Paris for their honeymoon, but things had always come in the way. The war, missions for the order, Lily's pregnancy and going into hiding with Harry. There never seemed to be enough time to do what you want to do. There was a lot James regretted not doing while he was alive, taking Lily to see Paris was one of them. He wished he had taken a weekend off from work and just go, but they had always thought they had all the time in the world so that they could travel another time.

James gazed at Remus with a thoughtful expression. He wished there was something he could do for him. His friends and family had always been the most important thing for him, and he'd gladly give his life for them (a second time). But he felt very useless in this form, he was more like a watcher then doer. What that made him survive the days was knowing that was able to help Sirius and Harry by being there and bring them food. But other than that, he felt totally useless.

The spirit looked at the kneeling figure, feeling at loss for what he could do to help. Bringing Remus snacks and food wouldn't help much, even though it did seem that the man could need some. But there was no one locking Remus in a room and refusing to feed him, or giving him dry bits of food. Also he didn't know how to find Remus either. The spirit gave a small, sad sigh.

Remus stayed another half an hour talking about everything and nothing. In the end he gave a small sigh and muttered "What am I doing?" He didn't really understand why he came to the grave and just talked, but it felt like the right thing to do. It always felt good talking to James and Lily's grave, it was almost like if they could hear him, and he always left the graveyard feeling better, like if a weigh had lifted from his chest. Remus stood up, gazed around. He looked down on the grave again. "I miss you so much." He bit his lip. Even after all these years it was still painful. James and Lily and Peter had been his best friends, something he had never thought he deserved as a werewolf. After wiping his eyes, the man turned around and started to walk away.

James stood alone and stared after him, with a sad expression.  _We miss you too, Remus._

…

…

"I need your help." James appeared in front of Sirius, holding a stack of paper. Sirius looked curiously up from where he was sitting on the floor of the cold cell, wondering what James could need help from him for.

The spirit quickly laid the paper down on the bench, looking like it took every inch of willpower not to drop the content on the floor. He looked tired.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked, looking a bit concerned. James only waved his hand in respond.

"Like I said, I need your help –" James stopped what he was saying and looked closer at the documents. A small frown appeared on his forehead, before he gave a small sigh, "I lost a couple of the forms. I will be right back." And before Sirius got to react, the spirit was gone. He gave a small sigh and crawled over to the bench. He picked up one of the documents and cocked his head questionable, wondering again what James was planning. The prisoner looked around, waiting a couple of minutes for James to come back. But it didn't seem like that would happen for a while.

Sirius picked up the stack of paper again and sat down on the bench, deciding that he might as well read them and figure out what James needed help for while he waited. In the beginning the reading went rather slow. It had been years since the last time he had use for that particular skill. Somehow it had never really occurred to him that reading was a skill you could forget if it wasn't in use. But he guessed it would be the same with a child who had learned to speak German at an early age, but never got to use it, so that when he was older he'd forget most of it.

"I'll just ask James to get me a book next time he's around," Sirius mumbled loud to himself. He'd never imagine that he'd miss reading. That thought made him smile. He wished he'd read more at Hogwarts, so that he'd have more to think about in this prison/hell hole, and not just his hunting memories.

It went easier and faster to read as the hours passed. When he was finally done, half a day or maybe more had gone. And still no sign of James. Sirius bit his lip in worry, wondering where his friend had gone, and why it had taken him so long. He stayed up for half of the night waiting. But in the end exhaustion won and brought him under a restless sleep.

A scream woke him up abruptly a couple of hours later. Sirius blinked his eyes a couple of times, trying to get the hunting images of his dream away. He sat up after a couple of minutes and gave a low sigh when it appeared that James was still missing.

A plate with some dry scraps stood in a corner. Someone must have come with it while he was asleep. He ignored the food, not particularly feeling hungry. Outside one could hear the low drumming of rain, and Sirius stuck his nose into the little window, trying to smell the rain and catch some fresh air. The smell of the ocean and wet dirt was heavenly compared to the sour and bitter smell of death lingering in his cell.

"What are you doing?"

Sirius jumped a little in surprise and turned around, seeing James look at him with a puzzled expression. The dog animagus smiles sheepishly.

"Nothing." He stood up from the window and eyed the other man. He was holding a new stack of paper and looked even more tired and exhausted then before. You couldn't see it in his face, James looked still as young as the day he died, ha hadn't aged a day. This always made Sirius feel old and worn out. He wondered how he looked, but he was glad there were no mirrors in his cell. He didn't really want to know. No, it was more like an aura around the spirit, this tired and tattered aura. Suddenly James' arm started to flicker, like you see in an old wizard photograph, and for a second there it disappeared. It was only for a sec, but it was long enough for James to lose his concentration on the papers and they fell straight through his hands, like if they weren't there. The documents hit the floor and scattered around the cell, some of them flying through the ghost.

"Fuck," he swore and crouched down on the floor to pick them up. But every time he tried, his fingers just went through them. He gave a frustrated sound. Sirius was already on the floor, picking them up. He looked at James and gave him a small smile.

"Don't worry, I got this. Just relax, it's not a big of a deal." James looked back at him uncertain. After a couple of seconds he nodded and rose.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Don't be. How many other ghosts do you know what could have done the same thing you just did?" James looked at him, and suppressed a smile.

"Well, I know a couple who'd love to help me mess up your room."

Sirius gave an amused snort. "Like we did in fifth grade? Tricking Peeves to destroy the slitherin boy dorm." The two grinned at each other and laughed, both of them remembering the prank and similar ones they had pulled in their youth.

Sirius picked up all the documents and laid the next to the other stack on the bench. He looked at James again with a thoughtful expression. "Where were you?"

James looked at him and frowned a little. "I told you I went to get the rest of the paper. I promised I'd be right back, didn't I?" He gave him a crooked smile. But that only made Sirius frown.

"That was over a day ago, James." The ghost froze and looked at Sirius with a startled expression. "It was?" Sirius nodded and bit his lip. James shoved a hand through his hair and gave a little sigh. "I didn't know, I'm sorry. I thought I blinked straight there to here. It's just- I'm just-. I'm just tired, that's all. Don't worry." He gave Sirius a soft smile, trying to ease his troubled friend.

Sirius looked at him thoughtful for a couple of seconds. Wondering if ghosts could get tired, and whether or not it was good. "Alright," he cleared his throat, "these papers." He waved his hand in their direction. James looked at them and stood a bit brighter. "Ah. Yes. I need your help with writing a new testament."

Sirius nodded a little bit. "I understood that much. But why?" James shot him a surprised look, which Sirius gave a wry smile in response to. "You were gone for over a day, remember? More than enough time to read the documents, James."

The spirit looked at him for a couple of more seconds and nodded. "I see, that does make sense." He looked back down on the documents and cleared his throat again. "I want you to help me make a new testament, this time for Remus. So he can get some money." This time it was Sirius' turn to look surprised. He hadn't thought about that. "That's. That's actually a very good idea James." He hesitated before adding."How is he?"

James gave a little sigh and shoved his hand through his air. "Not good. He's lonely, poor and looks like he hasn't showered for days. I want to help him, Sirius." He gave his friend a sad smile. "This is the only way I see that can be of any help to him. Furthermore, he looks like he could have use for some money."

Sirius smiled sadly back and nodded. He picked up the quill. "We could transfer some money from my account too. I won't have need for them in here. And you don't need to take too much from Harry." James nodded at that, thinking it was a good idea too. Together the ghost and the prisoner leaned over the documents and started slowly to make a draft of a new testament.

…

…

Phocus Pallando had always taken proud of being a great wizard and an even greater wizarding lawyer. It had therefore been quite a shock when he came to his office one morning, discovering the missing will of Lily and James Potter on his desk. The Pallando family had always been keeping track of documents, testaments and even gone to court when needed for the higher classes in the wizarding world. Many wizard family had gone to them for hundreds of years, for example the Malfoys, Crabbs, Greengrass', Lestrangs, Blacks, Rosier's and the Potters.

Phocus had looked through the documents, and later found them authentic. This had been quite the shock, as Phocus had himself gone through the original testament with James and Lily before they went into hiding. There had never been any mention of a second will. How it had ended up years later on his desk was a big mystery.

It was therefore he found himself later on the afternoon, after a couple of meetings, calling his assistant, Gwen. He poked the red calling-frog on his desk. It made a deep quack, before curling up and continued it's afternoon nap. The frog was magically linked with an identically frog, who sat outside at Gwen's desk. When poked on, the frogs would make a sound simultaneously, signalizing that the person on the other end was required for something. It was a genius invention, which had only been in use for scant years. The idea hadn't popped up before a muggle-born had tried to get the muggle version into the offices, but none of the older wizard nor pure-bloods had any interesting in anything to do with muggle-magic. The witch Anura Ranidae had come up with the solution of using magical enhanced frogs or toads, an idea that everyone had liked, especially the older witch and wizards. Anura herself had had a breeding farm with magical frogs and toads (which had been the reason why she had suggested it) for years, and had therefore become really really rich from the new marked.

Phocus only had to wait a couple of seconds, before a glowing blue ball appeared in front of him.

"What can I help you with, Wizard Pallando?" Came the cheerful voice of Gwen from the ball. The glowing ball was also a new invention. It had only been in use in Phocus' office for a couple of weeks, and it spooked him a little every time he saw it. The ball was created so that they could talk directly to each other, instead of Gwen having to walk to his office every time he wanted something. It was more officiant, though Phocus preferred the older ways, as any older wizard does.

"Please call me Phocus, Gwen. How many years have you been with me?" The only respond was a small huff.

"Is it illegal to be polite now too?" Phocus rolled his eyes a little and gave a small huff in respond.

"When have you ever been polite, Gwen?" There came no answer from the glowing ball, but the older wizard knew that Gwen was grinning to herself. He was smiling as well. Gwen had been his assistant forever, all the way back to when she was called a secretary, and for two reasons. The first was that she was incredibly efficient. The second was that she was incredibly plain, and so none of Phocus' three wives had ever been able to find the slightest objection to her.

"What can I help you with?" She repeated after a little while. Phocus blinked a little and shook his head, forgotten for a second what he was doing.

"Oh yes. That's right. I need you to contact Mr. Remus J. Lupin. I have a couple of papers he has to sign. See if you can fit him in on Tuesday. I want to be done with these matters as soon as possible, yes?"

"Yes, wizard Pallando. Will do." Before said wizard could comment, the blue ball had disappeared.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to start this chapter with a quote from Edgar Allen Poe, as I thought it fitting this story

_The boundaries which divide_

_Life from Death are at best shadowy_

_and vague. Who shall say where the_

_one ends, and where the other begins?_

Phocus Pollando's office wasn't particularly big, but the small size wasn't noticeable, as the ceiling in the room was seven meters long. On them hang bookshelves with equally length, all of them full-packed with books and other documents. In the corner was a big desk made of oak, and comfortable chairs on both sides. Phocus always wanted his guests to be comfortable, especially since most of his clients were wealthy rich. Next to the big oak desk was a smaller one, made of the same dark oak. On this one stood refreshments, a bottle water, a bottle of good Gin, a small bowl with licorice snaps, butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and other things that his guests could enjoy.

A small knock came from the closed door, making Phocus look up from what he was doing. "Come in," he called, and looked down at the documents he was reading. The door opened a couple of seconds later, and a rather shabby looking person walked in. Phocus frowned a little in confusion, wondering how the disheveled man had come in past the guards. His clothes were ragged and worn, with patches on the knees. His face looked tired and dirty, and his eyes, though intelligent, looked exhausted.

"Can I help you?" Phocus asked uncertain, hoping the younger man hadn't ill intentions towards the older wizard. He moved his hand carefully closer to the red frog, hoping to have enough time to send a warning if the stranger attacked him. The tired looking man gazed around the office, noticing a couple of the books, before turning his eyes on Phocus.

"Yes," came a rather ruff voice. He cleared his throat before taking a couple of steps towards the nervous wizard. "I was called in to have an appointment today. I'm Remus J. Lupin."

Phocus stood rooted to the ground, it took him a couple of seconds before the information entered his brain. He blinked his eyes. "Oh." Noticing what he said, the older wizard shook his head and went around the desk. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin." He said with a pleasant voice, trying as good as he could to hide his surprise. He had just assumed that Remus Lupin was rich, or at least of a higher class. "I'm Phocus Pallando." The younger man gave a slight nod, and they exchanged a brief hand shake. "Please do sit down." Phocus nodded towards the chair, and a couple of seconds later Remus dropped, exhausted and with a grateful sigh, into the chair. He mumbled a polite thank you.

"Do you want something to drink? Some pumpkin juice or butterbeer perhaps? Or maybe some licorice snaps?" Remus shook his head.

"No thank you, I'd rather just know why I was called in and get going, if that's alright with you?" He gave the older wizard a small smile. Phocus looked at him for a couple of seconds, before nodding. He moved around his desk again and opened a drawer.

"This was just found recently, and we do apology for it taking so long to notice. You have our deepest regret, and we hope it hasn't done you any discomfort." He paused and looked at the youth. It did really look like the ragged man could have need of the money a long time ago. Phocus fished up a couple of documents and laid them carefully in front of Remus. He looked at them curiously, before giving the lawyer a questionable look. "What's all this about? I don't think I'm following you, Mr Pallando."

"Ah, yes. You see. There was just discovered a second testament by your friends, Lily and James Potter. I do recon you are friends, right?" When Remus nodded he continued talking. "In this one you inherit 10,000 galleons. They are to be given to you immediately. Congratulation." Phocus gave him a big, warm smile. Remus didn't immediately answer, only looked at the lawyer in confusion.

"What?"

James had a happy smile on his lips. He had stalked Pallando's office for days now, waiting for Remus to appear. He wanted to see his friend's face when he got the news. He had used a lot of energy to stay, and it had therefore drained him of almost all of his energy. He didn't think he'd be able to have waited any longer for Remus to appear.

"Everything is going to be alright now, Remus," he told his friend. "Now you have money, and you can finally start living. Live for me, Remus. For me and Lily, and Sirius of course. All we want is you to be happy, my dear old friend." James felt light and warm inside, he had finally gotten to do one thing right. He had stayed behind to make sure his family and friends were alright. And now he'd finally gotten to do something good. The spirit closed his eyes, behind his eyelids there were this bright, white and warm light. He felt like he was wrapped in a cocoon of warm and happiness. He opened his eyes again, and the room had disappeared. All around him was that warm, safe light. White mist swirled around his legs, and he put his hand out. He marveled at how the mist moved due to his hand, an ability he hadn't appreciate before he couldn't disrupt the water or the rain or smoke anymore.

The spirit looked around. "Hello? Is anyone there?" he called uncertain. He wondered where he was.

"Hello?!" James didn't like this, this place was starting to make him nervous. This new light was different then the one that usually consumed him. That light was cold and merciless.

"Calm down, James," said a warm voice. "You are safe here."

The spirit looked around in surprise. "Who's there?" he called. He knew that voice. His chest tightened of the thought of it. "Show yourself!" He yelled, in confusion and a little bit scared. He didn't know what was going on, and he sure as hell didn't like it. In the distance the mist started to swirl, and James began to move towards it. The light brightened as he walked.

After a while he started to see figures in the mist, it started out as shadows, making him nervous in the beginning. But since none of them attacked him, or saw any interest in him, he ignored them. James looksedaround. This place was so peaceful and quiet, it didn't feel ominous or evil. A couple of times he tried to talk to the figures around him, but when he got too close they dissolved into mist, making James wonder if he was imagining things. He didn't get any answers either, so he continued his walk.

The light only continued to brightened as he moved forward, it was starting to make him nervous. He stopped and looked around again.

"What is going on? Where am I? Please tell me. I need to get back. Can anyone hear me?" James was starting to feel really nervous again. He just wanted to go back to the office, back to Harry and Sirius. How long had be been here? It felt like hours. A movement behind him made him turn. What he saw took his breath away.

There, standing just a couple of meters away, stood the most stunningly woman he had ever seen. Her red hair flowed down her head, like waves. Her eyes were the color of the meadows around Hogwarts, shining like emeralds in the summer sun. Her face was petite and looked like marvel, like if the ancient Romans had carved her beauty in stone for all to see. But her smile made her look so alive, like fire that could burn you without a second thought. Just as the cavemen did thousands a years ago, James wanted to stare at the fire forever.

"Lily," he gasped in the end, and started to run towards her. Lily held her arms out, but didn't move, as James came running so fast towards her. When he reached her he picked her up and swung her around him. "Lily," he said, "oh Merlin, Lily." She gave a small giggle and threw her arms around his neck.

"That's my  _name,_  now don't misuse it." She said with a warm smile. James chuckled and put her down on the ground, still keeping his arms around her.

"I'v missed you so much, Lily."

Lily smiled softly and stroke his cheek. "I know James, but now we are finally back together." James nodded and moved his head towards her, stealing a kiss from her lips. "And we are never going to be apart again," he promised. Lily smiled and nodded. She let go of him and took his hand.

"It's time to go James." She tightened her hold and started to walk towards the shining white light. James followed her.

"Where are we going?" he asked curiously.

Lily looked back at him and gave him a warm smile. "Home, James. We are going home. You have been lost for so long, and finally you are where you belong, mylove."

James stopped on his tracks and stared at her with big eyes. "You mean. You mean I'm going to die?" Lily rolled her eyes and hit him lightly on the arm. "You are already dead, James." She softened her smile. "It's time to move on now. The living don't need you, James. You should be here with those who love you." James looked at her uncertain, bit his lip and took his hand back.

"I can't Lily. Harry and Sirius need me. I can still help." He tried not to sound pleadingly, but that was what he was doing. He didn't want to cross over just yet. Lily looked at him with a sad expression. "I need you here, James. If you stay too long you are going to get lost. You wont be able to cross over. Take your chance now, you might never get another one."

James shoved his hand through his hair and looked away, not knowing what to do. On one hand, Harry and Sirius needed him, but if he stayed with them and couldn't cross back again, then he'd be lost in the world of the living, never to see them again when they passed on. If he stayed now with Lily, he would never know how Harry and Sirius was. What if they died shortly after he left? At least he had done something good, he had help Remus. Remus would have a better life now because of him. Now his werewolf friend could live the good life and never worry about money again, he deserved it. James closed his eyes and nodded. Yes, he could leave, knowing that at least one good thing had come out with him staying.

Lily smiled and took his hand again. "It's going be alright, I promise." She started to walk again. James trailed behind.

_"No."_

James stopped and looked around in confusion. He was certain he had heard a male voice say something. Lily looked at him curiously. "Is something wrong?" James looked around for a couple of more seconds before looking back at Lily. "No, nothing is wrong," he gave her a soft smile and continue to walk.

_"What do you mean no?"_

" _I don't want the money, they are not mine to have. They belong to Harry." Remus stood up and gave the confused lawyer his hand to shake. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Pallando. I appreciate that you took the trouble of informing me of this."_

James stopped and looked around. There, in the mist he could vaguely see Remus and the lawyer. He let go of Lily's hand and started towards them.

"No! Remus! Don't do it!" He started to run, trying so fervently to make Remus take the money, and not leave. "Remus!" he growled. "Don't do this to me! It's your money, you need them more then Harry at the moment!" The misty figure of Remus didn't seem to hear him. He shook the other figure's hand and turned to walk out. James swore and ran faster. Maybe if he ran fast enough, Remus would do as he said. James could vaguely hear Lily call after him, to come back, but James only closed his eyes. _Lily, I'm sorry._

Suddenly all the noises crashed into him, and he opened his eyes. He was just were he left in Phocus Pallando's office.

"Are you sure you wish to do this, Mr. Lupin?" said the lawyer. Remus stood by the door, he turned around and nodded. "Yes, I'm certain. Thank you again for your time." He gave him a soft smile, before turning around and walked out. James stood staring back at the retreating form of his friend.

"No, Remus. Come back. Don't do this to me." He tightened his jaw. He failed, he couldn't do anything right. He took his hand in the hair and started to tear on it. "Remus!" he yelled. He wanted to know why Remus didn't take the money, why didn't he want to be happy!?  _Because he believes he doesn't deserve it, after getting you and Lily killed,_  whispered a voice in his head. James gnashed his teeth together.

"It's not your fault, Remus. It's no one's fault," he whispered. He let his head fall forward in defeat, all the anger drained from him. A loud noise made him look up again, right in front of him was the expensive dark, oak desk that belonged to Phocus Pallando. It was smashed, like if it had been flying around. The spirit looked around, it wasn't the only thing that was broken or smashed in the room. Practically every shelf and books in the room had been flying around, and now lay broken and scattered around in the room. Papers and documents filled the floor. In the corner, hiding was Phocus with his red frog. James swallowed nervously. He hadn't noticed what his anger was doing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, before the cold light devoured him. In his exhaustion he couldn't keep it at bay anymore.  _I'm sorry Lily._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my least favorite chapter. However, as I have previously posted this a year ago in ffn. I didn't feel like rewriting it.. or simply delete it from the story altogether. Which is something I'd preferred to do.

The silence was deafening in the small cell. Something Sirius always appreciated every other time of the day. Silence meant no soulbreaking screams in agony, no rustling of their guardians' feet as they came closer, some of them always found perversely pleasure in beating the inmates, something which Sirius had repeatedly discovered first handed the first few years in the cell. After the years past by they got bored and moved on to some new, fresher bodies. No screams also meant that the dementors weren't around, and so most of the inmates always tried to get some sleep these few hours of peace. The peaceful times were scant and scattered over the weeks, and so you had to take it when it came.

This time the silence weren't peaceful. One could vaguely hear the screams of lost souls in the distance, but Sirius took no notice of it. Nothing excised right now outside his little, dark cell. James had emerged a couple of minutes earlier, his eyes were empty and it didn't seem like if he even registered what was around him. If Sirius looked straight at him, he could barely see him, like if it was just a trick of his eyes. Or like the obscure ghosts at Hogwarts, unlike them, James looked real. Identical to the day that he died.

"James?" he repeated worryingly. He had tried everything other then scream and throw something at him. Whatever that was going on with his friend, he didn't like it. A couple of times he believed he was just imagining things. He hadn't seen James in over a month, but that was alright. He had just assumed James had used too much energy on the whole Remus-affair. And frankly, James looked like he needed some rest.  _Some rest in peace._

Suddenly James' eyes seemed to focus on him, and a couple of seconds later his body solidified. Sirius sighed in relief. Worrying for a sec that he had just imagined James all along.

"Are you feeling alright?"

James nodded at that. "Yeah. Shouldn't I be?" He looked at his friend with a questionable look. Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but quickly changed his mind. Not wanting to worry his friend. It seemed like James didn't remember what had just happened, something that made Sirius wonder if it had happened before. Sirius shook his head. "No, I suppose not."

James nodded again and gave him a brief smile. His eyes looked around the small cell, lingering on the full plate with a day old dried food. He looked back at Sirius and narrowed his gaze accusingly. "You haven't been eating." Sirius followed the spirit's gaze and swore inwardly. He had forgotten to hide that. Instead of answering, he quickly changed the subject. "How did it go with Remus?"

The spirit narrowed his gaze even more, knowing that the other man had deliberately ignored the statement. But he decided to let it go for now. That discussion wasn't over for a long shot. He looked down and his suspicious manner was replaced with a sad expression. "He refused to take the money."

"What?! Why?" Sirius stared at him with big eyes. What was Remus thinking? James shook his head. "He doesn't think he deserves it, Sirius. He thinks. He thinks he was responsible for killing us." He gave his friend a sad smile. Sirius pursed his lips, before giving a small sigh. He understood that thought. He still blamed himself for James and Lily's death. If he hadn't refused to be the secret-keeper, then none of this would have happened. Sirius wouldn't be in prison, and James and Lily would be married and have Merlin knows how many kids by now.

"What are we going to do?"

James shoved his hand through his hair again and looked thoughtfully down. After a couple of seconds with rumination, he looked up at Sirius again. "I could transfer galleons to his vault now and then. Just small enough amount at a time that he wouldn't notice. A little is at least more then nothing at all." Sirius nodded eagerly at that proposal.

"Yeah. That's a good idea. Let's do that." The two men smiled at each other and nodded a second time. Happy that they came to a solution.

They started to talk about nothing important after that. Sirius was happy with the company. He had missed someone to talk to. After James started to show up and talked to him, the times without him felt like they lasted forever. The times with James felt like they were over in a blink of an eye. And the loneliness after were always worse then before. This particularly month had been hard on him. Anticipation of knowing how it went with Remus had made it worse. Day after day he had waited for word from James. These emotions had made the dementors particularly attentive against him, and so it had been very hard on him.

After half an hour the conversation died down. As James looked more and more distracted and thoughtful. He started to answer Sirius with one syllable or a polite grunt. Sirius stopped talking shortly after, wanting to know what was up with his friend. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Sirius waited, but when it appeared that James wasn't going to say anything, he cleared his throat. This didn't seem to have any affect though.

"A sickle for your thoughts," he said lightly, trying to lighten up the mood. James focused back on him and gave a small smile. "It's nothing, I was just thinking. Stop worrying so much, Sirius. You'll get wrinkles." Sirius hummed a little at that and nodded. The spirit looked around the little cell, before leaning down to pick up the plate. His hand went straight through it. He gave a small sigh and tried again. With no luck this time either. He straighten up and looked at Sirius with a lost look, hating to feel so useless and powerless. "Could you?" Sirius gave him a sad smile and nodded before picking up the plate. He sat down on the bench and picked up one of the scraps, fully knowing what James wanted. He put the food in his mouth and started to chew slowly. James nodded his approval. He didn't like seeing Sirius so skinny.

The spirit looked away thoughtful again. He bit his lip.

"Sirius?"

The prisoner looked up and answered him with a "Hmh?".

"You know the day... The day that I died?" This was said with a soft voice. Sirius swallowed the food and put the plate down beside him. He could tell that this was what had bothered his friend. He wasn't quite sure where this was going, but he gave a small nod regardless. This was a topic they had avoided talking about. "Yeah. What about it?"

James didn't look at him, looked nervous, like if he was unsure if he wanted to say something or not. Whatever James was thinking, Sirius couldn't read it, and so he sat there waiting patiently for James to overcome his inner turmoil. "The day... Night I mean. I. ehm." He scratched his cheek, before blurting out. "I were there when you came in and found the... me. on the ground."

Sirius froze. Now it was his turn to avoid looking at James. He had not thought of that. That James had been there. But it did make sense. It explained why the glass had suddenly exploded, and why he had felt that James was with him. "You did?" he mumbled quietly.

James nodded and looked down on his feet. Suddenly very interested in the same snickers he had wore the last couple of years. Another uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Neither of them wanted to poke the bubble to see where this was going. Sirius thoughts were racing a hundred miles a second. He remembered well what happened that day, it was a memory he frequently visited when he closed his eyes. He remembered kissing James' cold lips and mumble that he loved him. Sirius ducked his face, so that his hair fell forward and hid his face. He felt ill all of a sudden. He got this urge to throw up. He felt so stupid. For years he had been so careful so that James wouldn't know, couldn't know. Because they were only best friends, brothers, and they would never ever be anything else. And Sirius had accepted that, and decided that James should never know. No matter how much it hurt. But now, now his secret was out in the open, and he felt panic consume him. Would James leave him now and never come back? He couldn't live with that, James being disgusted by him. The ghost is the only thing that kept him from losing it. Without James he'd surely give up and die. What was the point of living when the only one he has hates him? The longer the silence lasted, the more panicked Sirius got. Soon he had to gasp for air, trying not to hyperventilate.

It was about that time James noticed that Sirius was freaking out. He scrambled down in front of him and took his hands on either side of Sirius' shoulder, not really touching him, but close. "Sirius, relax. Try to breathe. Come on, take some deep breaths, in and out. There you go." Sirius started to relax from James' soothing voice. After a couple of minutes his head cleared up, and he manage to muster enough courage to look up. Only to lose his breath. There, a couple of centimeters away from his, was James' face. His eyes had a slight golden glow to them. Something Sirius hadn't seen for a while, due to the poor light in his dark cell. But somehow James' eyes always found a way to mesmerize Sirius. To draw him in. His face looked young and still had this innocent and youthful glow to it. Something that would never change, as James would never get the chance to grow up completely . Something which Sirius was relieved for. When ever he looked at James face he remembered all the fun they had at Hogwarts, about their youth. For just a little while he could imagine that he wasn't rotting in a cell and that James wasn't dead because of him.

"Are you feeling better?" the spirit said with a soft, but worried, tone. Sirius felt like crying. How could James be good to him? He was just a pathetic, worthless poofter.

James saw the tears in his friend's eyes, and felt his throat tighten. "Hey, Sirius. It's alright." He embraced the man carefully, trying not to put his arms through him. Sirius closed his eyes. He could sense that James was there, but he couldn't feel his arms around him, he couldn't smell James' unique scent. A scent he loved, and would never smell again. Sirius let his tears fall, he wanted to take his arms around him, and hold James' tight against him. But he couldn't, for James was dead. And it was all his fault.

"I'm sorry James. I'm so sorry," he sobbed. James held around him. "It's alright Sirius. It's alright. Don't cry." He held him until Sirius sobs quiet down. James let his arms drop, stood and sat down next to his friend on the bench. Sirius curled himself into a ball and looked miserable down on the floor. He was feeling empty inside. James would' leave soon and never come back, he was sure of it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sirius didn't look up, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I was scared." James gave a little nod, understanding why he would be. The wizarding world did not tolerate homosexuals. The ghost looked thoughtfully up.

"I never even suspected that you were-"

"I know," Sirius said hurriedly, not wanting James to say it out loud. James looked back at him and sighed. "I don't mind you are gay, Sirius. You are still my friend." Sirius looked at the ghost a little startled, that was not what he expected James to say. The spirit gave him a crooked smile. "Hey. One of my best friend is a werewolf. Why in Merlin's beard would I mind having one that is gay?" Sirius smiled softly. "Yeah. But this is different." He looked down at his sleeve and started to pick on it.

"How come?"

"Because I'm in love with you."

James fell quiet. Now it was his turn to not look at Sirius. He looked down on his hands, with an unreadable expression. Sirius wish he knew what James was thinking, but he wouldn't force it. Now it was all in the open. Would James leave him in disgust? Would he proclaim his undying love for Sirius? Oh Merlin, he wished that was true. The seconds ticked by, and still James said nothing. Sirius felt nervous, but he couldn't take his gaze of his dead friend's face. Just in case this would be the last time he'd ever see him. Suddenly James smiled humorless.

"You know. I'v had a long time thinking about that. Several years actually. It just. Never really seemed real before you told me straight out that you love me." He looked at Sirius. "I'v never thought of you like that. You were, are, my best friend. And I love you like a brother. You are my soulmate after all. And, it might be awkward, but I'm glad you told me the truth." He smiled softly at him. Sirius looked at him with mixed feelings, some of them being surprise. He nodded and smiled back. "I'm glad you don't hate me."

James snorted a little in amusement. "Why in Merlin's knickers would I hate you?" Sirius shrugged. "I'm not really sure. But you'd probably come up with a reason." James rolled his eyes. "You are stupid, you know that? I could never hate you, mate. I'v already told you that. You are my best friend." He gave him a big smile, and Sirius couldn't resist smiling back.

"So, have you ever had a boyfriend then?" James smiles teasingly, and Sirius had to gulp. Not expecting James to ask. He shook his head. "No, I haven't. I'v kissed and fumbled around with a couple. But..." He stopped himself there, not wanting to say that none of them were as gorgeous and brilliant like James. He cleared his throat. "I was never really into other guys. It was more you I found attractive." He smiled softly and a little bit sad. Somehow it was easier to talk about this now that James was dead.

James nodded a little. "Ah. I see." He said awkwardly. It was really embarrassing hearing that your best friend has been in love with you for yourself. Who wouldn't feel awkward? "So. You are like. Jamessexual?"

Sirius looked at him and grinned a little mischievously. "No, I think I'm Pottersexual. Your dad was quite catch to look at as well." James stared at him with big eyes, his mouth hanging open. Sirius moved his eyebrows suggestively, before starting to bark with laughter. A couple of seconds later James joined in. He pushed Sirius off the bench and grinned at him. "You are such a poofter." Sirius, lying on the floor now, grinned back. Again they started to laugh. Both happy that they could still be relaxed and joke around with one another. They had, after all, only each other.


	11. Chapter 11

The little cell was dark. It was always dark, but today it was illuminated by the cold outside. Dark rain clouds darkened the sky and strong rain patted against the stone tower. The rain made "pitter-patter, patter, pitter-patter, patter" noises as it hit the stonewall outside the cell. Every now and again a drop or two would find its way through the little window and fall on the ground with a soft "drip".

The figure in the corner didn't really notice the rain. He was huddled together in a tight ball to ward off the bone chilling cold. Now and again he would rock back and forward and tighten his hold on his feet. A small whimper escaped his almost blue lips. His eyes were glassed over and stared at nothing, as horror images flashed behind them. In one of the neighboring cells a loud cry could be heard. After a couple of minutes it stopped only to be replaced by a low sob. Someone else was banging on the walls, or maybe it was the floor, with their bare-hands. Another one was screaming, "Stop! Stop! I'm sorry. Please!"

Sirius Black kept quiet. He didn't really hear the others, it was noises he had been used to a long time ago. A maniacal laugh made him shrink a little, but he didn't ruse. It was a laughter he knew well, a laughter he had heard for years, but it never seemed to stop giving him the chills. Every time that crazy witch was quiet, Sirius begged that she would be dead. That his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange was no more. But so far she had survived this wrecked place.

James stared down at his friend with a worried expression. He had been here for a couple of minutes, but it did not seem like Sirius could see or hear him. He waved a hand in front of his face, trying to catch his attention, but those grey, hollow orbs just stared straight through him.

"Sirius," he said with a soft voice. "What's wrong?" He didn't get an answer. The prisoner started to rock gently back and forward again. He burrowed his face against his feet and gave out a small, heartbreaking sob. "James," he mumbled, at least that's what the thought he heard. "I'm sorry. Please don't hate me."

The spirit kneeled down next to him and smiled softly. "I don't hate you Sirius. You don't have anything to be sorry for." He laid a hand carefully one the other man's shoulder. "I don't know if you can hear me or not. But please don't blame yourself. We have talked about this before. When are you going to get through that thick curly head of yours that I forgive you?" He tried a half-hearted smile, but it quickly died on his lips as Sirius continued to cry. The spirit bit his lip and looked around with a worried expression. What was going on? And why couldn't Sirius see him? The thought of being invisible to his best friend again was giving him a sick feeling to his stomach. He didn't want to be alone again.

James laid a piece of cake on a plate on the bench. He had forgotten to ask who had fixed it after he broke it a few years back. It had never really come up in a conversation. The spirit concentrated on the candle that was on the cake. He had thought Sirius would appreciate the gesture. A cake with candle on it. How many years had it been since the last time any of them had blown out one? Now though, the little candle meant something else. After a couple of seconds a small flame blossomed on the top of the white and blue candle. James looked back at his friend with a hopeful expression. Maybe if Sirius saw it he would understand that James was here. However, the dead man was disappointed ones more. Sirius didn't even as much as glance at the cake. It was as if couldn't see it.

James let his shoulders fall in distress. What was going on with Sirius? He looked back at the flickering light. After a couple of seconds it flickered one last time and died. James frowned and looked around. Something was wrong, he could feel it. The water on the floor had frozen. When James first had arrived here, the water had been liquid. However, now it was frozen straight through Sirius small gasps came out with a mist of vapor. Even the atmosphere in the small cell felt colder than before, even though James could not feel the cold.

James looked around slowly. Ha had this itchy feeling that someone was staring at him. Someone with malicious intentions. The spirit moved his eyes around slowly, dreading to see where the feeling originated from. His eyes stopped at the cell bars. On the other side of the bars stood a tall, lean figure. A dark hood covered his face. He was three meters (or ten feet) high and covered in cloaks of long, ripped, black cloth. It looked like he was levitating.

It took James a couple of seconds to realize that he was staring at a dementor. When it finally hit him, horror and fright filled up inside of him. He had heard many stories about dementors before. All of them describing how terrible these creatures were. Creatures created by darkness and suffering to punish those who betrayed the wizard society.

James knew that the dementors were the guardians of Azkaban, but he had never really thought about it. It didn't seem real that Sirius would live with these creatures. Therefore, he had cast the thought away, rather wanting to live with not knowing.

The spirit glanced down at his best friend. The man was curled into a tight ball. His eyes were shut hard together, as if he was trying to banish the images away. James wondered what his friend saw, but he could imagine the horrors Sirius relived. James looked back at the dementor. He wasn't sure the thing could see him or not, but he was rather sure of it. He had a feeling he was being watched.

The dementor stood there watching him. Not with interest or boredom. He just simply stood there, as if it was something he had always done, and would do long after the world ended. His cape swirled around him like dark mist. A skeleton hand grabbed one of the bars and he leaned forward.

James took a step back. He could maybe not feel the cold or the horror the presence of a dementor always gave out, but he could sense it.

"What do you want?"

The question made the dementor pause. He tilted his head a little, as if he wanted to see the ghost better.

For a long while there were but silence between them as the dark guardian of Azkaban studied him. The spirit took his arms around himself, as if it could protect him from the creature's gaze. He couldn't see his eyes, but he could feel them. Dead eyes staring at the dead man. James shivered at the thought and looked down.

 _You are lost_. James jumped a little and looked around before letting his eyes rest on the dementor.

"Pardon?" He asked, unsure if he had heard something or not.

 _You are lost_. The whisper repeated. It was like if the whisper was a thought in his head. It swirled around like cold mist of darkness and it made James shiver. The whisper had been everything and nowhere at the same time.

"I'm not lost," he mumbled. "I know exactly where I am. It's where I want to be." He looked down at Sirius with a fond expression.

 _You are lost_. The voice repeated once more.  _You should not be here._ James looked up at the dementor and frowned. The guardian stared back with what that could be described as a stoic expression.

"Why do you even care?" The voice did not answer, the dementor simply stared at him, as if he had all the time in the world. They stood like that for a long time, James trying to stare the creature down, the creature not looking like he cared if he was there or not. In the end, James was the one who broke the silence. He licked his lips nervously.

"Do you. Do you know what I am?"

The spirit stared at the dementor almost desperately. It was a question he had wondered about for a very long time. He knew he wasn't an ordinary ghost. The ghosts at Hogwarts could tell him that. Those ghosts were white and almost invisible, while James still had his colors and looked "real".

_You are lost._

James rolled his eyes. "You've already said that. It's not really an answer you know?" He said almost sarcastically. The dementor didn't seem to notice though.  _You should not be here_. With that the dementor turned and disappeared down the hall. James ran through the bars of the cell and stared after him.

"Tell me! Please. I need to know!" However the dementor did not turn. After a couple of seconds he was gone. The spirit stood there staring after the guardian. He felt so lost, he just wanted some answers. The dementor's words spun inside his head.  _You are lost_. It was the same thing Lily had told him.

_"It's time to go James." She tightened her hold and started to walk towards the shining white light. James followed her._

_"Where are we going?" he asked curiously._

_Lily looked back at him and gave him a warm smile. "Home, James. We are going home. You have been lost for so long, and finally you are where you belong, mylove."_

_James stopped on his tracks and stared at her with big eyes. "You mean. You mean I'm going to die?" Lily rolled her eyes and hit him lightly on the arm. "You are already dead, James." She softened her smile. "It's time to move on now. The living don't need you, James. You should be here with those who loves you." James looked at her uncertain, bit his lip and took his hand back._

_"I can't Lily. Harry and Sirius need me. I can still help." He tried not to sound pleadingly, but that was what he was doing. He didn't want to cross over just yet. Lily looked at him with a sad expression. "I need you here, James. If you stay too long you are going to get lost. You wont be able to cross over. Take your chance now, you might never get another one."_

The spirit closed his eyes. Was it already too late? Would he never see Lily again? Had he screwed up again? Was he bound to walk the earth for eternity? What would happen to him? All these thoughts swirled in his head. He felt discouraged.

He opened his eyes again.  _No_ , he thought.  _Let's not jump to conclusions. I can't afford to think like this. You stayed for Harry and Sirius, remember? And what if you can't followed them to the afterlife. Do you care as long as they are happy?_  He nodded a little to himself. Yeah, he could live with that. Nothing else mattered then their happiness. He would just have to pray that he still had a chance.

"James?"

The spirit jumped in surprise and looked towards the voice. Sirius stood on the other side of the bars. A lazy grin plastered on his face, though his eyes shone with worry. Sirius hair was disheveled and his eyes were red from crying. He was looking rather pale as well. James looked at him relieved and smiled back.

"Merlin. I'm glad you are alright. You worried me there for a second."

Sirius blinked a little in surprise. "You were worried about me? Why would… Oh." His voice faltered and he turned his head away. "It's nothing," he mumbled. The spirit frowned, but decided not to ask. Many things happened in the prison that Sirius refused to tell him. It was a bit surprising for the both of them that this was the first time James had caught Sirius in a position like that.

James went back into the cell and picked up the plate of cake he had taken with him. Sirius followed him with curious eyes. The spirit concentrated on the candle, and soon the little flame appeared once again. He turned towards his friend and held it out to him.

"Happy birthday Sirius!" He sang with a lopsided-smile. "I know I'm a bit late. But I hope you forgive me."

Sirius stared at him in shock for a couple of seconds. "It's-It's my birthday?" James nodded and grinned. "Yeah! I sort of lost the balloons and the hat on the way here. So I hope it's alright."

"Balloons and hats?! Are you crazy? That would be too obvious and people would notice!"

James smile softened. "I know. I was just joking." He handed Sirius the cake. Sirius accepted it and blushed a little. "Oh." He sat down on the bench. "I'm sorry." He looked up at James with a sad expression. "I'm just not feeling that well for the moment." He let his eyes fall on the cake in his lap. It looked rather delicious.

The spirit nodded a little. "It's alright. I understand." He smiled softly and sat down next to him." He looked at the cake. "Make a wish."

Sirius looked at James, smiled and nodded. He lowered his face towards the candle. He lingered for a couple of seconds, closed his eyes in concentration, before blowing out the light. James beamed at him. "Congratulation!" Sirius straightened and chuckled, before taking a bite of the cake. It tasted so good. He had no idea how long it was since the last time he had eaten something as good as this. He took his time eating the cake, and James didn't mind watching him do so. He was just too happy to see that light in Sirius' eyes. Like if everything was alright, and nothing existed in this world except of the two of them and the piece of cake.

The spirit looked at the cake with a little sad smile. He would never eat or taste anything ever again. He couldn't even smell the sugary cake. However, he didn't care right now. If Sirius could enjoy himself with it, it was more than enough for him.

After a while Sirius stopped eating and looked thoughtfully down on the cake. He poked it with his middle finger, before looking up into James' curious hazel eyes.

"How old am I?"

The spirit frowned a little. "I'm not sure." He scratched his head, trying to remember what year it was. Everything went so fast in this ghostlike state. For what for him felt like mere minutes, could be months in the world of the living.

"I think it might be around 1990 or maybe 1989." He looked at his friend. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I really don't know. For me it feels like its been mere months since…" He let his voice die out and looked down.

Sirius smiled softly at him. "It's alright, James. I understand." He bit his lip a little thoughtfully. "Well. That means I'm around thirty, ey?" He grinned a little. "How do I look? Good or bad for a thirty year old man?"

James looked at him with a small smile. "Frankly. You look like shit."

Sirius pouted a little. "Well that's not very nice, you know. It's my birthday after all. You should be nice to the birthday boy, or didn't your mum tell you?"

James looked at him and chuckled lightly. "I'm sorry. You look gorgeous with your ruffled hair and bloodshed eyes. If you were a girl I'd totally hit on you." Sirius laughed at that and wiggled his eyebrows playfully. "I knew you had a wild side, Potter."

James snorted, before grinning back at him. It was nice just sitting her joking around. It felt like the good old days, long before the war. At these times it felt like they were kids again, and the bad times were only nightmares they could laugh away. But soon enough the illusion would break. James would feel the tiredness and calling from the dead, and Sirius would be left alone for Merlin knows how long in this rotten cell, waiting for his dead friend to reappear.

"Sirius?" The spirit asked after a while.

"Yeah?"

"What did you wish for?"

Sirius shook his head and gave him a small smile. "I can't tell you that, or it won't happen." James groaned at that.

"Come on. Please tell me. I'm dead, so I don't think it counts. It's like saying stuff out loud. Besides, I can't blow out a candle for myself. So your wish is mine as well." He nodded enthusiastically. Sirius didn't look as eager, though. He hesitated.

"Do you really want to know?" James nodded. "Yeah. I do." Again, Sirius hesitated. He looked down at the cake. He ripped off a little bite and ate it.

"I wish I died." He said with a soft voice. After a couple of seconds he glanced at James. The spirit looked up in the air with an expressionless face.

"Why?"

"So you won't be alone anymore."

James froze a little at that before staring at his friend. "Sirius." He mumbled with a small voice. "Don't be stupid. You don't want to end up like me, trust me."

Sirius frowned. "Why? It's not like I have a life. All I do all day is to sit in this cell, rotting away. Hoping that today you will come to visit me. It's hell, James. When you are not there I feel cold and lonely. It's nothing to do here. And even if you do find something, the dementors will take the pleasure away without even blinking." He shook his head. "No. I want to die, but they won't even give us the pleasure of death." He let his head fall forward. His hair fell over his eyes to hide the tears that formed in them.

James stared at him for a long time, before letting out a deep sigh. "Don't give up hope, Sirius. You can't die, alright? Harry needs you. I need you." He looked at his friend with a lost expression. "If you weren't here to talk to me, I think I'd lost it years ago. As a ghost you can't feel anything. Not the rain, not the cold or warmth. I can't smell anything. I can't even cry over the loss of my wife!" He clenched his fists. "At times it's even hard to feel anything. When I'm watching over Harry I feel emptiness inside of me. I don't feel the love I used to by just seeing his face. I have to muster up the motivation to feel anything." He sighed again. "You don't want to be like me. One of us has to stay alive."

Sirius looked at him with wide eyes. He had never thought of it like that. Maybe he did hate the feeling of being cold all the time, of hunger and the rotten smell of death in this place. At times he had wished he couldn't feel anything, but to feel a little is better than nothing. If he was dead he couldn't have tasted the cake he just ate. Sirius looked down in shame.

"I'm sorry. I didn't… I didn't think."

James smiled softly. "It's alright. I'm just glad you are alive. Being dead sucks." He sighed. Sirius gazed at is friend. He had many questions about his condition, but he didn't dare to ask. There was much Sirius didn't tell him, and so James was not obligated to do so either. No, he could ask his questions another time. He picked up the last of the cake and ate it. He closed his eyes and made a small sound in pleasure. It was a really sweet cake. Double chocolate with strawberries on top. How many years had it been since the last time he tasted chocolate?

"Sirius?"

Sirius opened his eyes and swallowed the rest of the cake in surprise. James' face was lowered to his, only a couple of centimeters away. His hazel orbs shone almost with warmth. Suddenly James moved his face forwards, as if he wanted to kiss him. Everything stopped for a second, and Sirius' heart raced a mile a minute. Their lips met in fraction of a second, and for a moment Sirius was certain he could feel James' lips on him. Then the feeling disappeared and he was met with a disappointment when he couldn't feel James, not even smell him. His sight was clouded by James' handsome face and he almost drowned in the whirlpool of his eyes.

"Happy birthday Sirius." James whispered towards his lips, in the next second he was gone from the room. Sirius blinked in surprise, before letting his eyes fall shut. A single tear fell from the corner of his eyes.

"James," he mumbled softly to the empty cell. "Thank you." For it really was the best present he could have ever wished for.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this chapter is taken from the book "Harry Potter and the philosopher stone". Anything you recognize = not mine. This chapter is build up mostly by small scenes. I hope it does not bore you to reread a little from the book. It's mostly just the fun parts, and I felt I wanted to include this scene in my story. Sorry if it goes a little too fast sometimes.

The little room was dark and filthy. Petunia never bothered to clean it. She had left that task to Harry. The boy didn't mind it though. It meant that she wouldn't go into his "room" and sneak around. The cupboard had become Harry's sanctuary where no one would bother him. There was no uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia to look down on him, no bullies to make fun of him and no cousins to mock him. No, in the cupboard he was safe from the world.

Harry sat on his bed and looked around. The cupboard was a little crowded. There were boxes with aunt Petunia's hats and Vernon's shoes. There were unused coats and blanket, which Harry sometimes used to keep the cold away with. Harry's own belongings he kept in a box under the bed or neatly folded into one of the half-full boxes. It was his room after all, and he wanted it to look tidy. However, he did not have the heart to take down the spider-webs in the corner. The little spiders had become his friends, and he liked talking to them and imagine that they could understand what he said.

Today he sat restlessly on his bed. He hadn't seen his guardian angel for a while, and he was anxious to see him again. There was something Harry wanted to tell him. He closed his eyes and concentrated, like if he could summon the angel by will power.

"Angel," he mumbled. "Where are you? I need to talk to you. It's important."

Harry kept his eyes closed, trying to visualize the angel, but he could not feel the warm, safe feeling he got when the angel was there. He opened his eyes again and sighed.

"I suppose you are not here. You are out doing something more important, like watching over someone else." He smiled softly, if not a little sad. He had read somewhere that guardian angels were often assigned to more than one person. The child didn't care though, he was just happy that someone would look after him. So that he wasn't completely alone. He laid back under the cover and closed his eyes. Maybe the angel would be back tomorrow?

The next day went unadventurous. It was raining outside, and so Harry spent the day alone sitting in his cupboard. Every now and then he could hear Dudley yell at the new television he had gotten for his birthday or the smash of another broken toy. Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling, he felt really lonely and sad.

The next day was spent running away from Dudley and his friends. They had recently started playing a new game called "kick the freak". That night he laid curled in his bed, licking his wounds. He had stolen some bandages from the medicine cabinet and put them around his knees, they hurt after he fell down on the concrete earlier. He would have to take them off in the morning, or his aunt would notice he had nicked them. Harry cried himself to sleep that night.

The day after he had to mow the grass in the garden and cut the shrubs into neat squares. He made sure using the entire day doing that. His cousin wouldn't dare bullying him while he was doing shores, or he might have to do them himself.

The rest of the week was spent mostly in the same fashion. Nothing new ever happened, and there was no sign of Harry's guardian angel. The boy was feeling distressed and a little depressed. Where was his angel? He laid curled under the blanket. Now and again he would whimper softly in his sleep. He was dreaming about a bright, green light. A beautiful, red woman was crying. "Please don't hurt him. I'm begging you." Harry shifted restlessly in his sleep.

"Please." He mumbled. "Don't hurt her." The evil shadow only grinned in his dream. He held a wand out. He said something Harry couldn't remember. And suddenly there were green, pulsating, light.

Harry sat up. His breath came out heave and fast. Panic and adrenaline flooded his system. His eyes darted back and forth trying to locate the evil shadow from his dream. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was back in his room, and that he was alone. The young boy let out a small sigh and fell down in bed. It had just been another nightmare.

"It's alright, Harry." Mumbled a soft voice. "I'm here now."

Harry looked up in surprise, but he couldn't see anything. However, he knew that voice. A small, happy smile grew on his lips. "You are back." The boy looked up at the presence of his angel. A wave of happiness erupted from the angel. Harry could feel a hand stroke his hair, and suddenly the blanket glided over him again; he hadn't noticed that he had lost it.

"Thank you." The boy said and snuggled into the cover. He glanced back at the angel. "I'm glad you are back. I missed you." He wanted to ask where he had been, but he couldn't hear the answer, so there was no use. He had tried asking the angel before about his parents, but the angel always became sad when he mentioned it, so the boy kept quiet.

Another happy wave came from his invisible guardian. A second later he thought he could feel someone kiss his forehead. Harry closed his eyes. He felt safe now, and for the first time in days, he felt sleepy and content. The cruelty of his family didn't seem real anymore.

James smiled tenderly at his son. It was time like this that made his existence bearable. He didn't know how long he had been gone, but it seems like it had been a while. Harry looked skinnier then he usually was but he had gotten some color in his cheeks from spending time outside.  _It must be summer again_ , the spirit mused. It was always hard following the seasons. Months and years went past so fast in his condition.  _Have I missed Harry's birthday yet?_  He looked around, but the little room gave him no clues. James hoped not, he wanted to give Harry something special on his birthday. He looked back at his son.  _How old are you now?_  He tried to think back, but it was difficult.

James scratched his head. Would Harry turn eleven soon? Or was he only ten? He shook his head a little. All this thinking was giving him a headache. He stood up from where he was sitting by the bed and started towards the door. Maybe the Dursleys' had a calendar somewhere.

"Are you leaving already?"

James looked back at his son, a little startled. He thought Harry had fallen asleep. The boy sat in his bed, clutching the blanket towards his chest. He looked vulnerable, staring at James with big, green, innocent eyes.

"If you have time to stay a little longer. There is something I," he hesitated and looked down. "I want to tell you."

James smiled softly at that. "I'm not going anywhere Harry." He walked back and sat down by the bed. He stroked his son's hair carefully. "You tell me whatever you'd like. Daddy will never leave you."

Harry looked straight at him, a small, happy smile on his lips.

"I was in the Zoo the other day. Can you believe it? Me, in a Zoo!" The little boy was practically beaming with happiness. "Dudley's birthday was a couple of days ago, and no one could look after me. Therefore, I was allowed to join. Isn't that great?" He looked at him with big excited eyes. "Never been there before." Harry coughed a little and willed himself to calm down. "We went to the amphibian and reptile house after lunch. It was dark and cool in there, with lit windows all along the walls. And behind the glass there were all sort of neat lizards and snakes!"

Harry was talking really fast and excitingly, he hadn't talked this much for days, and needed to get it out of his system. James chuckled and sat down more comfortable. He loved hearing Harry talk, even though he was talking a little too fast to follow.

"Behind one of the glass was a big Boa Constrictor, from Brasil. Though he was bred in the zoo." The little boy frowned a little. "Dudley and his friend was banging on the window to make the snake move, but he didn't. He's too use to people doing that."

James stroke through his son's hair and smiled gently. He liked how his son got all fired up because of one of his stories. The spirit looked around the small cupboard. He didn't like this place. It was no place for a child.

"And then suddenly the window disappeared, and Dudley fell into the cage!" Harry's giggle made James look at him again. He hadn't paid attention to what his son was saying. "The Boa constrictor slithered out of his cage. And I can swear he said with a low hiss as he slid past me;  _"Brazil, here I come… Thanksss, amigo!"_ "

James froze a little and looked at his son with round eyes. "Harry? Did you talk to the snake?" He remembered well the day a few years back when Harry had saved the hedgehog family. But he had hoped it had only been a onetime deal. Had Harry really inherit the gift of parsel tongue? Moreover, how was that even possible? James shoved a hand through his hair and sighed. There was nothing he could do. Maybe the gift had just randomly shown up in Harry, or, as James dreaded to think about, the ability could have been transferred from Voldemort through the scar?

"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon gave me the blame for what happened. Isn't that unfair? How in God's name could I have done it?" Harry hesitated for a second before adding. "Did you do it?" James looked at his son and chuckled softly.

"No, son. I didn't do it. It does sound like something I'd do, isn't it?" He curved his lips a little into an ironic smile. Harry laid down again and gave out a yawn. He looked up at James with sleepy eyes.

"Thank you for coming. Will you stay a little longer? Could you come back tomorrow? I miss you."

James smiled softly. "Yes Harry. I'll stay as long as you want." He pulled the cover over Harry and tucked him in. "Daddy is not going anywhere." With that Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep. James sat, looking at his son for a long while until he had to go, and when he did it was with warmth in his heart.

…

* * *

…

James sat watching Harry move around in his little cupboard. The boy was looking through a box, throwing some of Vernon's jackets and hats everywhere. It was as if Harry was looking for something important. Now and then he would mutter: "Where is it? Where is it?" Finally, a few minutes later, Harry popped up from one of the boxes. A brown-too-big hat sat tilted on his head. James chuckled from the sight. The boy shook his head a little, so that the hat fell down. He climbed out of the box, stretched a little, before turning around, and looked straight at James.

"I got you something. It's nothing big. I just thought I owed you something," Harry blushed a little and looked down. He held something behind his back. The spirit suppressed the urge to look around the kid to see what it was.

"You didn't need to, Harry." He said with a soft smile. "Just seeing you happy and smiling is a present enough for me."

Harry didn't hear him and looked flustered. After a few seconds he held his arms out and opened his hands. There, in the little palm, was a small, crystal angel. The little angel stood with her hands folded in prayer. Her eyes were closed, looking almost like she was concentrating on something. Her hair was wavy and rich down to her waist. Two wings spread from her back, both decorated with miniature feathers. She was also wearing a dress and a little halo on the head. The little, glass angel looked beautiful, though a small crack running from bottom to one of the arms ruined the beauty. However, James thought it just illuminated her radiance.

"They were going to throw her in the garbage, because she was defected." The boy looked sadly down at the crystal-angel. He stroke a finger carefully over the crack. Then he stroked his own scar on the forehead. "We are both broken." He looked back at James with tears in his eyes.

The spirit shook his head. "Don't say that, Harry, you are not broken. You are perfect as you are." He stood and went to his son. He stroked his forehead and smiled softly. "You are both beautiful. You and the angel." Harry looked up at him and nodded slightly, almost as if he could hear his words. He tighten his hold on the little angel.

"I asked if I could have it. I wanted to save her. They said they didn't need it, so I got it." He smiled warmly at the crystal angel. "I don't know if this is what you look like. But I like to think you are a beautiful Angel too, with wings and a halo. Do you want it? So that you can remind yourself off me every time you look at it?" The young boy looked at him curiously and held the angel out towards him.

The spirit shook his head again. "No. Why don't you keep it? And get reminded every time you see it that someone is looking over you, and that you are never alone." He laid his hand over his son's. Harry hesitated for a few seconds, before letting his hand drop. The boy looked uncertain, like if he was conflicted. James sighed, he wished Harry could see and understand him. The spirit wished he could make his son feel safer.

Harry looked back at him and smiled. "I'm not sure what you are saying. Maybe you can't have earth-stuff in heaven? If that's so, then I'll just keep the angel on my bedside, and get reminded I'm not alone. "He turned around and went to his bed to lay the small crystal piece down. James smiled happily at his son's retreating back.  _He is such a smart boy._

Harry turned around again. "I have to go and eat breakfast now. Will you stay a little?" He tried not to sound pleadingly. James chuckled softly and nodded.

"Of course, Harry, I'm not going anywhere."

…

* * *

…

The moment they came into the kitchen, Harry wrinkled his nose. By the kitchen sink, aunt Petunia was stirring something with a wooden spoon. James followed curiously as Harry went to have a look, he couldn't smell anything. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water.

"What is this?" Harry asked aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did when he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said. James and Harry looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," said the boy," I didn't realize that it had to be wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things grey for you. It'll look like everyone else's when I've finished."

James frowned. He seriously doubted that. It would probably look like his son was wearing bits of old elephant skin. He wouldn't have that. He'd just had to influence the grown-ups later to coax them into buy Harry a new uniform. Besides, it wouldn't be long, max a year, before Harry started at Hogwarts. At least that was what he thought. The spirit looked around the kitchen again, hoping to find a calendar to help him pinpoint what year it was. Suddenly he saw something red, orange and hideous from his peripheral vision. The spirit jumped around, his hand grabbing after the non-existing wand from his pocket, to face the monster. The sight that met him made him almost bark with laughter.

Dudley Dursley was a wearing a hideous outfit. Probably a school uniform for a muggle school. The poor lad was wearing a maroon tailcoat, orange knickerbockers and a flat straw hat. He was also carrying a knobby stick, probably used for hitting other students when the teachers weren't looking. James snorted a little in laughter. Muggles were so peculiar. He followed them to the table and looked down at the food. Petunia had made scrambled eggs, bacon and pancakes. James swallowed down a lump. How he missed the taste of food. He'd given his right arm and leg if it meant he could have a taste of those buttered pancakes with syrup.

The click from the letterbox made James jump out of his thoughts. He looked down at his son. No, getting to see Harry was worth any pancakes in the world. Maybe he'd steal some later for Sirius? The prisoner had probably not eaten pancakes since James had.

"Get the post, Dudley," said uncle Vernon from behind the paper he was reading.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the post, Harry." James gave a little annoyed sound.  _Spoiled little brat._

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting's stick, Dudley"

Harry dodged the smelting stick and went to get the post. James looked after him and sighed. He looked back at the people sitting at the table.  _Smelting, huh_?  _It must be the school the horrible uniform is from._  He nodded a little to himself. He was glad Harry wasn't going there. The school uniform was absolute horrid, he would have no son wearing clothing like that.

Harry came back a couple of seconds later. He handed his aunt and uncle the post and sat down. James noticed he was holding a thick and heavy envelope, made of yellowish parchment. Something was written on it with emerald-green-ink. The spirit moved closer excitingly.  _Could it really be?_

* * *

**_Mr Harry Potter_ **

**_The cupboard under the stairs_ **

**_4 Privet Drive_ **

**_Little Whingig_ **

**_Surrey_ **

* * *

James leaned back and grinned. It was has he had thought. His son had finally gotten his letter from Hogwarts, and he had been able to be there to see it. Harry turned the envelope around so that they could see the purple wax seal bearing the coat of arms of Hogwarts: a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding a large letter "H". If James was alive he would have felt his heart beat in excitement and adrenaline would soar through his system. He felt like he had waited ages for this to happen. Finally Harry could go to the place he belonged, meeting friends just like him. He wouldn't be alone and an outcast anymore. Maybe he wouldn't need his ghost of a father anymore? The thought made him sad, but he wanted only happiness for his son. He couldn't rely on the dead anymore.

Harry broke the seal and opened the letter.

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!" Harry was just about to unfold the letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by uncle Vernon. James growled in annoyance.

"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the greyish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

James nodded a little. "That's right, you old, miserable pig. It's Harry's letter. Now hand it over." He held out a hand towards the letter, before remembering that none of them could see him. He let his hand fall but kept his expression of glee.

Meanwhile, Dudley had tried to grab the letter, but Vernon kept it out of reach. Aunt Petunia was for the moment reading it. It looked like she might faint, she clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness, - Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly. From there everything escalated. Harry started yelling for the letter and uncle Vernon kept telling them to get out. James looked at the scene for a few seconds, before joining in with the chorus. The small rebellion ended when Vernon grabbed Harry and Dudley by the scruff of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them.

James looked after them with a small chuckle. It had been a rather comical affair, though annoying. He looked at the letter on the table. He was rather tempted to take it. The grownups weren't paying attention to it, they were too busy arguing about being watched and not wanting to have a wizard in the house. He looked at them an annoyance.

"You can't stop what he is. They will not stop before he gets the letter. He's going to Hogwarts no matter what. Even if I have to kidnap him." He nodded harshly, slightly wondering how he would be able to do that. But he would find a way, no matter what. He reached out to grab the latter, but just as he did, uncle Vernon grabbed it and stuck it down his pocket. James sighed.  _I'll make sure you get it, Harry. Don't worry._

...

* * *

…

"Harry? Harry!? Where are you?!" The spirit looked around in panic. The little cupboard was empty, except for the stuff that was supposed to be there. Harry and his things was gone. Even the little bed his son used to sleep in was missing. Had something happened to him? James shoved a hand through his hair in distress.  _Harry_. He swallowed down a lump. Where was his son? Had he been gone that long? He had only planned to be away for a few hours, he could time it like that over the years. It took a lot of energy from the spirit, but it was possible. However, had he failed so badly this time? Had he jumped years this time?

James closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down. He couldn't jump to conclusions, there had to be a rational solution. He opened his eyes again after a few seconds and gave a frustrated sound. The room looked like a mess. Unconsciously, in his distress, he had let his power leak again. The boxes laid scattered on the ground. Clothes of every shape and colors laid everywhere. It looked like a small bomb had exploded.

The spirit ruffled his hair. "I'm sorry," he muttered, to whoever it was that had to clean up after his mess. He hated it when he lost control like this.

"Is anyone there?" Said a small voice. James turned around and smiled in relief.

"Harry!" He went to his son and studied him. He didn't look any older. He was still skinny and looked just like he had this morning. Did that mean he hadn't jumped in time?

"Wow, did you do this?" The little boy looked around the cupboard with big eyes. "The noise woke me. Is something wrong?" He looked at the spirit with big, worried eyes. James softened and nodded.

"Yeah. I'm just fine. I just panicked when I couldn't find you." He scratched his chin awkwardly, feeling a little imprudent. Harry nodded like if he could hear and smiled widely.

"They moved me up into the smallest bedroom. Isn't that great?"

James blinked a little in surprise, before nodding. "That's great Harry!" He patted his son's head. "That's brilliant. Didn't think about that." He gave a small, awkward laugh. Sirius would love this story.

Harry grinned, as if he could feel James' happiness. "Come on, I'll show you." Together they went out of the room and upstairs. The spirit grinned happily to himself. Finally, things were looking up for Harry. However, a small part of him was saddened. Soon Harry wouldn't need him anymore.

…

* * *

…

The next morning Harry looked gloomy down into his breakfast. James could tell why, he was probably thinking about the letter from yesterday. The spirit laid a hand on his son's shoulder and smiled softly.

"Don't worry, Harry. Everything will be all right. I promise."

When the post came, Dudley was sent to get it. The boy banged his stick in the wall all the way down the hall. Then he shouted. "There's another one!  _Mr. H. Potter. The smallest bedroom, 4 privet drive_  –"

With a strangled cry, Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall with Harry right behind him. James snorted a little in amusement. Muggles were strange creatures. He started after them. The sight that met him was even more amusing then yesterday. Vernon had wrestled his son in the ground to get the letter, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. James joined into the struggle, trying to grab the letter by putting his hand through Vernon's stomach.

After a few minutes of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the smelting stick, Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand. James laid on the ground looking rather dazed. It had taken a lot of energy out of him trying to grab that letter, and when he had, it just slipped through his fingers. He felt exhausted.

"Go to your cupboard – I mean, your bedroom," wheezed Uncle Vernon to Harry. "Dudley – go – just go."

James didn't bother to move, he let his exhaustion swipe him into the other world.

...

* * *

…

James didn't appear before Sunday again. He could tell that the week had been adventurous from the look of the house. The doors were nailed shut, the letterbox too. James shook his head a little. Vernon should just give up already.

At breakfast time Vernon sat down at the table looking tired and rather ill, but Happy. "No post on Sundays," he reminded them happily, as he spread marmalade on his newspapers. James sniggered a little. Looked yummy. "No damn letters today-"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. James looked around. It looked almost like snow. Harry leapt into the air, trying to catch one. The spirit smiles softy grabbed one of the envelops and pushed it into Harry hand. The boy looked up and smiled at him gratefully. Before he could open it, Vernon grabbed the letter from him before seizing him by the waist and threw him into the hall. James narrowed his gaze in annoyance.  _Just give it up already!_

The Dursleys were all out in the hall. Vernon told everyone to grab their things and were soon enough out the door. James stood behind in the doorway staring after the car. Bits of broken wood and nails were scattered around, were they had tried to force the door open. He shook his head.

"You won't out run them, Vernon Dursley. It's Harry's destiny to become one of the greatest wizard of our time. I just know it." He went back through the door and into the kitchen. He picked one of the letters up and clutched it to his chest.  _You'll get your letter, Harry. I promise._  With that he disappeared from the room.

James didn't get the chance. Hagrid caught him too it. He didn't care though. He was just happy that his son finally got the letter.


	13. Chapter 13

It was a beautiful morning. It was a week into August and the sun shone brightly down at the busy shoppers in the cobbled alley. There was an assortment of restaurants, shops and other sights: some even had tables out front with colored umbrellas. Harry looked around Diagonal Alley with big eyes. His head snapped back and forth trying to take everything in. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon, and Merlin knows what more! Every now and again Harry would look back at James and point at something he found extraordinary. He could tell Harry was bursting to talk about it, but he was trying to keep James' appearance hidden from the giant, and so kept his mouth closed. However, that didn't stop the young boy to glance at James when Hagrid wasn't looking.

James chuckled. Never in his entire dead-life had he ever seen Harry so excited. It gave him a warm feeling to see Harry finally acting like a normal boy. The spirit followed the giant and the small child through the crowd. Every now and again Hagrid would point something out and tell a small story about it. James couldn't hear everything that was said, he was too busy trying not to be walked through. He had forgotten how crowded Diagonal alley was, particularly during the days or weeks before school started at Hogwarts. It made the life for a simple ghost hard. Every second he would have to step out of the way for someone, only to discover that someone was standing in him. James shuddered. He really hated that feeling.

As Harry and Hagrid went into Flourish and Blotts, the ghost hurried after them, happy to be away from the crowd. He was extremely grateful when Harry held the door for him; the young boy had somehow picked up on the spirit's unease. James smiled softly and patted his son's head.

"Thank you Harry."

The boy smiled brightly, before following Hagrid further into the bookshop. The shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather: books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. James chuckled softly.  _I never thought this place could have grown any bigger. Seems like we were wrong._  He walked further into the room and looked around. This place always felt infinitive and forever, like taken out of time and place. Bookshops and libraries somehow always felt darker and mysterious, as if it held the knowledge of all of history and answer to every spoken and unspoken secret, which they probably did as well. Books always reminded him of Lily. With a painful feeling in his chest, he didn't know if it was a curse or a blessing that he couldn't smell the dry, dusty scent of old books. The smell that never really left his wife. He closed his eyes.

"Lily," he mumbled softly to himself. "I hope there is a big library for you in the afterlife. So that you don't need to be too bored without me." He quirked his lips upwards from the thought.

After a few minutes of wandering around in the shop, Harry came running to James' side, clutching a book to his chest and looked excited.

"Look!" he whispered loudly and eagerly, and pushed the book towards James so he could see. The spirit blinked a little in surprise before concentrating on the book in his son's hand.

"How to summon your guardian spirit," he read. James froze a little in surprise. Had he read correctly? A closer examining proved that indeed, he had read correct. However, the book was about the patronus charm, a spell that evokes a partially-tangible positive energy force, also known as a spirit guardian.

He smiled softly at his son and crouch down on one knee. "I'm sorry, Harry. But it doesn't work like that. I wish it did."

Harry, somehow understanding the spirit's somber mood, sobered up. He clutched the book to his chest ones more.

"Wouldn't it work? But the book clearly says that you can summon a guardian spirit. Isn't that what you are?" The boy looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. James swallowed a little from the expression. It tore into him like knives. He wished he could talk to Harry as much as the little boy did, but unless he could find out how Sirius' did it, it was futile.

"No Harry. It's not that sort of spell."

Suddenly Harry's eyes stared to fill with water. "Don't you want me to see you, is that it?" The hurt and sadness in the boy's voice was obvious. Again, James felt his heart break. "I-I can understand if you don't want too." He started to rub his eyes.

"No, Harry, no. That's not it." He embraced his son, though careful so that his arms didn't go through him. He'd do anything if he could keep Harry for crying and to be able to rock the little boy towards him. "Shhh, Harry. It's alright. Don't cry." He swallowed a lump.

Harry stood completely still, as if could sense the ghost arms around him. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes some more before nodding slightly. "It's alright," he mumbled softly. "I'm probably not powerful enough to even manage a spell like that."

James was about to reply, when Hagrid's voice interrupted him. "Hey, Harry! Where are yeh, lad? I found the books yeh need." Harry looked up and towards the voice.

"I'll be right there, Hagrid!" He called back. With a last glance at James, the boy walked straight through his arms and walked in the direction of the voice. James looked after him and sighed. _I'm sorry, Harry_. He hated himself for giving Harry pain. He straightened up and made to follow Harry, but something made him freeze. A collection of books drew him to them. It was a section with Fifi Lafolle, the author of the  _Enchanted Encounters_  series. It was a silly series about a muggleborn and a pureblood wizard falling in love, and their love was forbidden etc. etc. Somehow, and James didn't understand why, the books were popular amongst female wizard, they found it romantic. Lily had been fond of the books as well. Maybe it had something to do with their own relationship. She a muggleborn, he a pureblood. James cocked his head. It was a theory he had liked when he was younger and was still trying to court Lily. Imaging that the books were about him and Lily, and she was just too scared to admit her feelings for him. James chuckled softly and shook his head a little. What an arrogant teenager he had been.

The spirit stroke a ghostly finger over the books tenderly. He remembered one summer in the end of August, just like this. It was the beginning off their sixth year in Hogwarts, where he had found Lily standing in front of this very shelf. James took a step backwards away from it. Thinking back of it he could almost imagine the scene. Lily stood there, wearing a soft green dress that went to her knees, complimenting her beautiful, emerald eyes. She had her nose down a book, by the author Irsis Pius -  _Wizards Are from Neptune, Witches are from Saturn._  James had noticed her from the corner, and couldn't do anything else but to stare mesmerized at the beautiful red haired girl. After a few minutes of gazing at her, he had finally mustered up his courage to go and talked to her. He hadn't seen her since the end of fifth grade, and in his opinion, she had grown even more beautiful over the summer, as she had grown into the curves of a young lady.

_"Good evening, Evans_ ," he said with a soft smile. Lily looked up from her book and narrowed her eyes a little, but kept her tone friendly.

_"Hello Potter,"_ she replied and looked back down in the book, trying to signalize that she wasn't interested in talking to him, but James acted like he didn't noticed.

_"Had a nice summer vacation?"_

Lily was forced to look up again, she licked her lips a little and tugged some hair strands behind her ear.  _"I was in Germany with my parents. It was quite nice. How about you?"_

James' smile broadened in victory, happy that Lily responded. They continued to talk about their summer holiday for some more minutes, keeping the tone light. Lily even laughed at some of the jokes James made. When Lily finally had to leave to find her parents, she had a genuine smile on her lips.  _"I'll see you at Hogwarts, Potter."_ She waved to him as she left. James waved back, staring after her with a dreamy expression.

James had no idea how long he had stood like that, when the other Marauders found him. Sirius threw an arm around his shoulders and sniggered.

_"Mate, you look flabbergasted. Did you get another look at McGonagall's knickers? 'Cause you remember how turned on you were by them last time."_

James looked at his best friend and snorted.  _"That was you, remember?"_  Sirius rolled his eyes and let his arm fall.  _"Oh yeah, you know how much I love McGonagall. Who wouldn't be turned on by that strict and demanding voice of hers? I'm positive old Minnie would be a wildcat in bed. Just too bad she has turned down all the moves I've tried on her."_  He pouted slightly.

Remus snorted in amusement.  _"Isn't it enough that you got half the young female population in Hogwarts drooling after you, Sirius, now you have to score on the elderly too?"_

Peter wriggled his nose in disgust.  _"That's just sick. Professor McGonagall would be too dry anyway."_ The three other Marauders looked at Peter in surprise, it wasn't often he made a joke, before bursting out laughing.

_"That's so true, Peter. I'd have to use a lot of lube_." Sirius patted Peter on the shoulder, and the four marauders laughed again.

James shook the memory away. He had spent a lot of time thinking about the past the last decade. What else could he do for the countless hours he spent alone? With a last glance at the shelf and the fading memory of the four laughing Marauders, he turned around to follow Harry.

_How did things end up so wrong?_  He thought idly.  _Why did Peter betray us?_  It was a thought that had hunted him for years. In the beginning he had been furious, hating the previous friend, but as the year passed, and only himself to talk to, he had started to wonder what he had done wrong. What had fueled Peter to make an alliance with the death eaters and Lord Voldemort? James had always known that Peter was a bit weaker than the other three Marauders, but that had only meant that they watched over Peter more and made sure no one picked on him. Maybe that had been the reason? After school they had lost a little contact, James had been busy with courting Lily, and then the war came and everything went to hell. Maybe Peter had felt alone and with no one bigger then him to protect him; he turned to the side he thought would win and keep him safe. James gritted his teeth anger, or maybe frustration.  _That doesn't mean I forgive him. If something was wrong he should've come to us for help!_ He shook his head. If he ever found that rat anywhere near Harry, he'd kill him. Some part of him was sure Peter was already dead, and glad, the other one hoped he was alive so he could get his revenge. No matter what Peter's excuse for betraying them, it did not justify getting Lily killed.  _And me, and ruining Harry's childhood_.

At that thought he focused back at Harry and Hagrid. He had unconsciously found them and followed after them through several shops has he had been deep in his own thoughts. It was mostly a habit he had picked up over the years, he would follow Harry without noticing he had moved automatically.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding towards  _Madam Malkin's Ropes for All Occasions._  "Listen Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I'm parched." James frowned disgruntledly. Not liking that the taller man would leave his son alone in a place Harry had never been to before. Logic told him that there were nothing dangerous about Diagonal Alley. He had many times in his youth spent hours here, alone with his friends. Nevertheless, as a father he was worried. Harry hesitated before nodding, not wanting the giant to believe he was a coward.

"Yeah, alright. I'll be fine." He smiled nervously before entering Madam Malkin's shop alone. James stood back looking back and forth between them, unsure which he should follow. After a small inner-debate, he decided to trail after Hagrid. With two quick strides he walked next to the bigger man.

"You really shouldn't drink while you are watching over Harry," he started with a strict tone. "Let's buy some ice cream instead, something you both would enjoy." With a small movement with his arms, he pushed the air around Hagrid and made him lose a step, so that he faced towards  _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour_. Hagrid haltered, looked a little confused as to why he tripped, before focusing at the ice cream parlour.

"Maybe Harry would enjoy a nice cold ice cream in this heat?" mumbled the shaggy man under his breath. James rolled his eyes. "Of course he would, Hagrid." Hagrid seemed to not need any further encouragement, and walked into the shop. The Parlour was a small shop with places to sit down inside, and a small area outside with a bunch of tables and chairs. Inside, there could be found lots of colourful ice-cream on display. The flavors varied from slug-and-beetle (popular amongst goblins), to more human tastes, like chocolate-and-frog-slime (Somehow popular among elderly witches). Hagrid seemed to study the vanilla flavours, one of them had sprinkled flies in it, another fairy dust (they were supposed to be delicious according to some specious who had requested the flavor. Other looked upon it has morally wrong).

James cleared his throat and pointed at the more normally ones. "Let's just buy one with chocolate and raspberry. That combination can never go wrong." With some more persuasion and another push, Hagrid finally bought two big chocolate and raspberry ice creams, with chopped nuts on top.

When they got back to the shop, they stopped outside a window where they could see Harry and a boy with a pale, pointed face, and blond hair, standing on different footstools, pinning up the uniforms. They look like they were talking. Hagrd waved at Harry, grinned and pointed at the ice cream to signalize that he couldn't come in. James on the other hand studied the pale boy next to Harry. He looked to be the same age as Harry. Would they be in the same class? Was he looking at one of Harry's new friends? James wrinkled his nose a little. Somehow that thought made him uneasy. He didn't like the look of the other boy. He was reminding him of someone. After a few seconds it clicked. The boy looked just like Lucius Malfoy. Didn't Malfoy have a child around the same age as Harry? He wasn't certain, but he thought so.

When Harry came out he looked upset, but brighten a little when Hagrid handed him the ice cream. Again, they started walking and talking about something, but James didn't pay any attention to them, as he was busy trying not to be stepped in.

When they were finished in the apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list.

"Just yer wand left – oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Harry felt himself go red.

"You don't have to – "

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. But let's drop yeh off at Ollivanders first. I want it to be a surprise." He winked at Harry.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read:  _Ollivanders: Makers of fine wands since 382 BC_. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair.

"I'll be right back, kay lad? An' don't worry. Oll' Ollivander doesn't bite." With that Hagrid left the boy once more, the ghost trailing behind him to make sure the giant didn't buy anything dangerous.

_Eeylops Owl Emporium & Magical Menagerie_ was located at the North side of Diagon Alley. It was relatively small and dark inside, with postures with many different colors and species of animals on the outside, so that curious by passers could take a look. The inside of the shop was dark, full with different sounds and smell. James was glad he couldn't smell anything, has some of the other guests wrinkled their nose in disgust, others held a scarf or a piece of cloth over their nose and mouth. Hagrid didn't seem to mind, he actually took a deep breath and sighed contently. The ghost shook his head a little and looked around.

The store had all kind of different animals. There were the more human ones like owls, toads and cats, but also magical creatures. In the serpent section one could find  _amphitere_  (a small winged serpent with two tongues, one serpent-like, the other shaped like an arrow) and  _amphisbaena_  (a mythical, small, ant-eating serpent with a head at each end of its body). Hagrid studied them curiously, even asked the owner a few question about the two specious. James pursed his lips and pushed Hagrid forwards, muttering: "You are not buying those for Harry."

The ghost looked around once more. In the corner with the cages containing the owls, something white caught his eyes. Curiously, he went closer. What met him was the sight of a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. James nodded approvingly. That was a bird worthy of his son. After some shouting and pushing, he manage to lure Hagrid into the corner. Almost immediately, the giant had noticed the bird and made a small whistle sound. The other man knew his creatures well. A few minutes later they walked out the door, a cage now accompanying them.

The ghost took his arms around him and yawned. He was tired. He had been following Hagrid and Harry around all day, and used a lot of energy coaxing Hagrid and trying to keep from being stepped in. He felt the other world pull at him, however he wasn't ready to go just yet. He wanted to see the look on his son's face when he got the beautiful bird. Nevertheless, the other world had no mercy. Before he could take another step, he was pulled into the white, cold place of nothing.

…

…

King Cross station was busy today. People in every shape and size walked past, hurrying to their destination or looking for their loved ones. Every now and again muggles would give Harry weird looks. The boy shrank a little and walked faster, not particularly liking to be looked down on. The Dursley had treated him like that for years, and now even strangers judged him. However, who could blame them? It's not every day one see a little boy pushing a trunk with a white owl in a cage.

James was furious. Just a few minutes earlier, the Dudleys had left Harry all alone in a train station packed with strangers. Who knew what was lurking around here, just ready to steal away a little lost boy?! He shook his head a little. He knew he was overreacting, but he really didn't like the thought of Harry being without supervision. Diagonal Alley had been enough but this one took the cake (1?). What sort of insane people leave a defenseless child like that? The ghost felt like growling at everyone who even looked at his son.

Harry stopped by a guard and started to ask question about platform 9¾, but the guard was confused and couldn't help him. It was obvious that he was a muggle, annoyance read clearly on his face, believing that the boy was making fun of him. James sighed and looked around. There was supposed to be a valet around to help the newly comers and muggleborns through the gate. However, James couldn't see any. Maybe they had a coffee break or something?

Harry excused himself and walked on. The ghost could tell that his son was worried and a little panicked from the glances he gave the spirit.

"It's going to be alright, Harry. Someone will help you. They don't just leave muggleborns to fend for themself." He smiled softly. "And it's not that hard. You have to run into the brick wall to get to the platform." He tried to explain what to do. However, Harry could not hear him.

"- packed with muggles, of course – "

Both Harry and James swung around from the words and looked at a group of people. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him, - and they had an owl. Harry started to push his own trolley after them in relief.

As they stopped in front of the brick wall, James studied the women. She looked familiar, and a little stressed. Harry was busy studying the oldest boy running into the wall.

"Fred, you are next," the plump women said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George, "said the boy." Honestly, woman, call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"I'm sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. James chuckled softly and shook his head. Those two twins were probably hard to deal with. Most likely troublemakers.  _Hogwarts won't be without Marauders after all._ He grinned at the thought. Poor McGonagall, having to deal with more of them.

_Wait, Fred and George? Have I not heard those names before? And the elder one was named Percy._   _In addition, they are all ginger_. He huffed a little of his own stupidity. Who else could this family be but the Weasleys? He looked back at the mother, Molly. She had aged a lot since the last time he saw her. Apparently gotten more children too. Despite of all that, she did look good, healthy even. James looked around again, trying to spot her husband, Arthur Weasley. He couldn't see him. He frowned.  _Had Arthur perished in the war?_  He tried to remember, however, he and Lily had been very isolated the last year, so he didn't know.  _I hope not. Arthur was a good man_. He nodded a little. Of everyone who could have spotted Harry, he was glad it had been the Weasleys. They were good people and would be able to look after Harry in his absent.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hullo dear" she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new too." She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.  _Ron huh?_  James remembered something like that.  _Same age too._  He grinned. This was sounding promising. He had met Sirius at the Hogwarts' train after all, and their relationship had lasted a decade (as he had not had the chance to grow any older, the thought bitterly). He watched as Molly helped Harry through the wall. He didn't follow. Harry could manage the rest on his own, he was in good hands, and so didn't want to bother his son. No, he needed to preserve energy, as he really wanted to see what house Harry got in. With that thought, he let the otherworld devour him once more.

…

…

The room was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. James looked around trying not to feel gleeful. He was back in Hogwarts again, he couldn't believe it. The room felt both smaller and bigger than it had in his time. Maybe because the numbers of students had tripled since then. He was standing by the entrance, looking forwards. No one noticed him, not that they would, even if he was visible, but were looking straightforward towards the teachers table or talking amongst each other. In between them, the pearly white apparition of the Hogwarts' ghost's residence glided over the table. Soon though, they turned towards one of the walls and glided through it, wanting to see the newcomers, James knew.

He looked down at his hands and frowned a little. He still had his colors, and he didn't float as the other did.  _Why am I different?_  He wondered. James had wondered about that before, but neither he, nor Sirius, had an answer for that question. Before long his attention turned towards the teachers' table, as Harry and his classmates entered the room. He couldn't tell their expression from where he was standing, but he knew from his first day of school, that they would be nervous, and maybe a little frightened.

The sorting hat was placed in front of the first year, and it started on the annual song. The ghost didn't pay much attention, it might not be the same every year, but it had the same content, and so he didn't bother listening. Soon enough the song ended and the sorting started. As each name was called up, James let his eyes wander over the four tables. Things hadn't changed at all since his time. The slytherins' looked sly and smirked conspiringly at each other, the Ravenclaws' smart; some even now had their nose down a book.

Finally the name James had been waiting for was called out. "Potter, Harry!" McGonagall's voice clang in the room for a few seconds, before the students started whispering among themselves.

"Did she just say Potter?"

" _The_  Harry Potter?"

As the students in the back craned their neck to get a better look at his son, James huffed a little. He wasn't sure if he liked all the attention Harry was getting. At least it wasn't bad attention. Harry would get friends now, even if they just wanted to get to know the boy-who-lived. When they got to know his son, they would realize what a good and fun person he was. James smiled softy, as only a proud father can.

"Gryffindor!"

James looked up when the hat bellowed. He grinned and started to clap with the others. His son was a Gryffindor, just like him! He felt proud at this moment. The lions were fierce protectors and good friends. Harry would be in good hands. Harry glanced back at James with a broad smile on his lips as he sat down by the Gryffindor table. James felt himself grin back.  _Congratulation, son._

After the sorting was done, and Dumbledore's speech ("Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"). It was time to eat. James stared at the food longingly. It all looked so good.  _It is a blessing at moments like these,_ he thought, _that I can't smell anything. Otherwise, I would be depressed that I couldn't eat any of it_. When no one was looking, he quickly stole a napkin, two Yorkshire puddings, a grilled chicken and a handful of peppermint drops for Sirius. He shoved them down his pocket before anyone noticed the flying food.

"What in earth are you doing, young man?" said an airy, delicate voice. James jumped and turned towards a pearly-white and slightly transparent, ghost. He had long curly hair. He had a ruff around his neck, and wore tights, a pair of breeches and a tunic. He also sported a small moustache and goatee, and a funny plumbed hat on his head.

"Merlin, Sir Nicholas, you scared the crap out of me." He laid hand over his chest and looked accusingly at the ghost. "Are you trying to kill me twice?" Nearly Headless Nick blinked his eyes a little in surprise, before bellowing with laughter.

"That is a good one. I have to steal that, if you don't mind it, my good sir."

James chuckled and shook his head. "You are free to use it as much as you please." Sir Nicholas beamed and floated up to him. He studied the younger.

"Do I not know you?"

James nodded. "You do. It's James Potter, if you haven't forgotten about me already." He smiled a crooked smile.

Again, Sir Nicholas looked surprised. "James Potter? But aren't you… Oh." He stopped himself before saying anything rude. If there was one thing the ghost knew, was that they all hated to be reminded of the fact that they were dead. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Now that you mention it, I can see it. Forgive an old ghost, but I have not seen you for years." He gave a slight bow, which James copied to show that he bore no grudge.

"I just saw your son over there. A charming fella. He's a good boy."

James nodded at that. "He is, isn't he?" He smiled warmly and glanced in the direction of his son.

"If you do not mind me asking. Why are you here?"

James looked back at the curious look on Sir Nicholas face. He scratched his head.

"To be honest, I don't know. I… I was just worried about Harry. I couldn't leave knowing that he was a danger." A painful expression crossed his feathers. Nicholas softened.

"I can understand that. In the way you died. Some ghosts cannot move on because of the horrible way they died, or of the shock of it. Like poor Moaning Myrtle."

James nodded a little. He had thought so before. "Sir Nicholas? Do you know why I don't look like you?" He looked curiously at the older ghost. "I still have my colors. And I don't – " He waved a hand up in the air, "float."

"Because you are not a ghost. Not yet." Came a hoarse whisper. James and Sir Nicholas turned, a little started, to the second ghost. He was pale, even paler then Nick, with wide staring black eyes and a gaunt face. He was dressed in robes covered in silver bloodstains. Sir Nicholas swallowed nervously and looked away. James on the other hand frowned at the Slytherin ghost. He nor Sirius had ever been scared of the Blood Baron.

"What do you mean by that? I am a ghost. I'm dead; I can't eat nor touch anything." He looked frustrated. "I can't feel the wind nor the rain or the sun on my face. I can't bloody feel my feet!"

The Blood Baron huffed. "I'm not saying you are not dead. You are very much dead, Mr. Potter. There is nothing that can change that." The ghost shrugged. "What I meant is that you are spirit."

"A spirit!" Sir Nicholas exclaimed. "What nonsense is this? You know perfectly well it's just a myth."

The Blood Baron looked at the other ghost with a hard expression, almost at once Nicholas closed his mouth and looked away. James looked puzzled.

"Could you explain that?" After a few seconds he added: "please."

The blood Baron looked back at him, his eyes narrowed.

"If you do not know the tale, it is not my responsibility to tell a child anything." With that, the ghost left. James shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Sneaky bastard."

Sir Nicholas glanced at him and chuckled softy. "Of that you are correct, my friend. Slytherins are indeed sneaky bastard." That rewarded him a grin from the spirit. "I never expected a resident in Hogwarts to admit it, Nick."

Sir Nicholas chuckled again. "Not to the students we are allowed. However, we all know it's true."

James laughed softly. "Thought as much." He stuck his hands in his pants, then remembered the food he had stuck in them earlier and retrieved his arms. "Nicholas? What did the Blood Baron mean by me being a spirit?" He looked curiously at the other ghost.

Sir Nicholas hesitated, before sighing. "You might as well know. It is not a secret among ghosts. A spirit, as the tale says, is stuck in limbo, neither living nor dead. A ghost is most certainly dead, he cannot enter heaven nor hell, while a spirit may still have the chance. Anyhow, a spirit is also a guardian or has a purpose he or she hasn't finished yet, and so is given another chance by some higher force to accomplish it." Sir Nicholas fell quiet and looked thoughtful at James. The spirit frowned.  _Could it be something in it?_

Sir Nicholas shifted nervously. "The Blood Baron can be right. I have never seen a ghost like you." He cocked his head, too late he noticed it was the wrong side, as his head tilted to the side. The ghost groaned in frustration, before pushing his head straight again. "And it does not seem like anyone can see you, otherwise everyone would know that the great James Potter was still here." The ghost dark eyes shone with curiosity.

"And I like it to stay that way, Nicholas. Please do not tell anyone I'm still around. Could you make sure the other ghosts could hold their tongue as well? I'm going to follow Harry around for a while still. If I have some higher purpose to fulfill, I don't want it ruined." He smiled slightly.

Sir Nicholas nodded. "Of course, of course. We will make sure that your existence does not get noticed by the living. Trust us to look after Harry when you are not around as well. All ghosts has respect for you spirits. Some tales tell that a spirit can help ghosts cross over."

James smile softened. "Thank you, I would appreciate that. And I'll do anything to try to help you to find a way to find peace." He laid a hand on his shoulder. Nicholas nodded his thanks. James let his arm fell and looked around, before focusing back on the ghost*

"I have to go now. I've spent enough energy today. Look after my son, alright?"

Nicholas nodded once more. "Of course we will. The boy-who-lived is known well amongst us ghosts. We didn't like you-know-who either, he was evil." He shook his head. James smiled softly at that. He glanced in Harry's direction, but the boy was occupied talking to some other Gryffindor and eating.  _Be safe, Harry. You are where you belong at last._  With those words, he disappeared again.

* * *

…

**1: _but this one took the cake_. I'm not quite sure if this is right. It's a direct translation from Norwegian. It basically means that something was too much to handle. I'm not sure if you use the same metaphor in English, as it sounded a bit strange in my ear. If anyone has a better idea for what is more correct, please let me know.**

 


	14. Happy Halloween

James hated Halloween. Every year he came back to the cabin on the day that he died. There was no escaping it. Every single year after that day he was forced to attend the memorial gathered in the house. The spirit hadn't minded that much in the beginning, as he could mourn the death of his wife with countless others. But after a while he started to dread Halloween. The memories were too painful. Halloween always came faster for him too.

It was early morning when he arrived. He would be spending the entire day here. So it had been for years. The other world would not claim him for hours yet, neither could he enforce the cold to devour him, it resisted and he was too scared to push it entirely, in case he would never wake again.

Today the house was cramped with people. The air tingled with magic as they levitated boxes and other stuff in and out the house. A couple of witches and wizards were busy magically expend the living room, so that hundreds of people could be fit in. The spirit frowned. Why they were doing this, he had no idea. Never had they done anything like this before. He got a bad feeling. Whatever they were planning, it would be big, and most certainly annoying. Why couldn't they just leave the house alone? Just once he would've liked to spend this night alone with his thoughts. Was that too much to ask for?

James stepped back as a goblin came carrying a box.

"I can't wait till tonight. It's going to be so exciting. They have been working none stop for weeks," chirped a voice. James turned curiously around towards two witches.

"I know. My William has been working very hard. I've barely seen him this week!" The second women giggled. She had brown, curly hair and wore a dark green dress.

"It's soon over, my dear Donna. You will see him a lot next week. Maybe you should make up for the lost weeks tonight after the show?" A third woman entered. She had strawberry blond hair down to her back. She was wearing a blue blouse with laces and a dark brown skirt down to her knees. Around her waist, she had a brown belt. James blinked a little. For some reason he got a déjà vu feeling that he had seen those specific clothes before. He shook his head.  _No, that's just ridiculous. You can't recognize an outfit._

The blond women smirked, making Donna blush. The two women laughed at their friend.

"Oh shut up, Lils," she paused. "Maybe I will." She added with a playful smile. The women kept talking but James paid no attention to them. A tall male coming towards them distracted him. James couldn't do anything but to stare flabbergasted at him. If he didn't know better he would swear he was looking at a mirror. However, he knew it couldn't be, one: he no longer had a reflection, two: he was not walking and three: when looking closer he could see that there were some difference between the two. The man's nose was bigger and more hawk-like. The eyes were denser and they were dark brown, not the golden hazel James had. His lips were also fuller and he had shorter hair then James. Moreover, the spirit's hair was messier. Looking closer he notice that the look alike was wearing the same clothes James was. A brown t-shirt and black kaki-pants. He frowned and looked at the strawberry blond woman. Now that he was thinking about it, wasn't that the same outfit Lily was wearing when she died? _What in Merlin's name is going on?!_  Was there some sort of look-alike competition this year? Whoever look the most like James and Lily wins his couch or something? He shook his head. The world was going insane, and him with it.

The not-James reached the women and snuck an arm around Donna's waist. "How is my fairy doing?" he said smiling warmly. Donna giggled and laid a hand over his. She turned her head around and planted a kiss on his lips.

"I'm doing just fine William. Bell and I were just talking about how excited we are for tonight. You'll look great up there, I'm certain."

Bell, the woman with the chirping voice, nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. It will be great. We sold more tickets than we expected. You know my 'Lendel right? He has an important position in the Ministry of magic. When everyone heard he was going there, a lot other bought tickets, and when people heard that they bought tickets, they wanted them too. I've heard even Cornelius Fudge bought tickets and are coming tonight!"

William visibly paled, so did the strawberry blond women. "T-The m-minster F-fudge?" Bell smiled brightly, nodded and kept talking about all the other important people who was coming, not noticing the small panic attack the poor fake-James was having. The strawberry woman tried smiling, but failed as nerves showed through. She gave up and turned around, muttering: "I need a glass of wine." Before she could leave, Donna grabbed her arm and gave her a stern look.

"It's going to be alright, Lillian. You have been working on this project for weeks." She looked at William. "The same goes to you, Will. You'll do fine. When the show starts you will forget all about the audience. Have fun out there and do your best. That's the only thing anyone can expect of you."

William relaxed and kissed her head. "This is why I married you. You are a smart, kind woman, Donna." Donna smiled lovingly in return.

The spirit turned away. He was still curious about what was going to happen tonight, but he would see it soon enough. He had somewhere else he had to be first. With that, he left the house.

The graveyard was only an hour walk from the house. James looked around while he walked, trying to find flowers he could pick to lay on Lily's grave. However, so late in October it was hard to find anything. He thought of compromising with some pretty stones he found, but changed his mind. Stones would look silly.

There was already a good amount of people at the graveyard already. Some held candles and chanted to the spirit goddess. Some crowded the statue erected in the village. It looked like a big obelisk carved with names, but transformed into a statue of the Potters when a wizard of witch was close. Needless to say that the statue was visible all hours of the day on hollow's eve.

James snorted in disgust. He had been there when they had raised the statue a few years earlier. It was flattering yes, but the statue had become so idolized that a small cult had erupted around it. The Potter cult they called themselves. Unfortunately, they were not the only one who saw the statue as "holy". There was another cult blossomed up calling themselves the cult of "the-boy-who-lived" and they regarded Lily as some sort of Virgin Mary one could find in the muggle religions. The entire thing was just stupid in James' mind. Neither he nor Lily was a holy spirit or the reincarnation of some sort of god as the cults mused. Another annoying thing about the cults, were that the Potter cult had all promptly changed their last name to "Potter". And the priest was called "The holy James." The cult of the-boy-who-lived held Lily in higher regard, and had a priestess as their head. Her name was "Virgin Lily." How she had birthed Harry was a confusing matter, as both of the cults agreed that James was Harry's biological father. How could Lily be a virgin if he was the sire of the boy-who-lived? Needless to say that the two cults were constantly arguing with each other about the "big questions", and whether or not James was the main "god" or Lily. And if, how important was their parents again?

James shook his head and walked past the statue. On both sides of the road the two cults tried to convert the visitors to join them, and yell at each other that "their way was the right one."

 _Stupidity. Everywhere I go, I see 'naught but stupidity. I wonder how they'd react if they knew I was still walking around._  He cracked a smile from the thought. Hopefully the entire thing would fall down soon, and the people would realize that they were worshipping completely normal humans and that their religion was based on stupidity. The rumors that they had supernatural abilities were in fact true, but so had most people in the wizard world!

"James Potter was the right prophet!" someone called, and the spirit groaned.

"Hell no! Lily was pure and the one who gave birth to the boy-who-lived. Without her the boy would never been born!"

"Oh yeah?! You guys are worshipping a muggle born. She probably fell into the temptation of the dark side and ratted out their hiding place in hope for redemption." James gritted his teeth and walked faster.  _Idiots. All of them!_  He was not going to stand here and listen to people talk ill about Lily on this day.

"Be silent with you Fredrick. We all know it was Sirius Black who sold them out. He was the child of a demon after all." Several people from both side of the rode nodded their agreements. "Yeah. Did you hear how he laughed, LAUGHED, at his trial? And when they found him amongst the dead muggles? He is truly a demon child. They always turn out insane."

That was it, James couldn't take it anymore. Without any conscious thought, he summoned up a small whirlwind and hurled it at them. Soon people were screaming and running away, bits and pieces and fliers went flying into a pond fifty meters away.

"My hat!" a female voice screamed and went after the hat, she fell down a small rockslide and cut her knees and hands. James felt a sting of guilt and let his hands fall. The wind stopped almost immediately.

"I'm sorry," he said. He got no reply as no one could see him. People were still running around panicking, some after the things that flew away, some to make sure their friends were all right. A little girl sat on the ground and cried among the chaos. No one seemed to notice her. The spirit went to her and kneeled down.

"Come now, little on," he said with a soothing voice. "Let's get you up and away before someone steps on you." The little girl stopped crying and peered up at him. James shook a little in surprise. For a second there is seemed like the girl could see him. She stood, turned around and started to slither her way around the grownups. A few seconds later a woman picked her up and kissed her head. The spirit couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could guess it. He kept staring after the girl long after they were gone.  _Can more people see me?_  The thought was both alluring and terrifying. What precisely would happen if the knowledge that he was still around came out?

James shook his head. He didn't want to think about it, and so he kept walking. The thoughts however, would not leave him alone.

The graveyard was less crowded now, as most had wandered off to see where the screaming came from. In the distance one could still her some screams, but the noise was quickly replaced with the ones from the professional mourners (1). The spirit rubbed his face. He really disliked them. They made so much noise and prayed and praised James and Lily, wishing them luck on the journey to the next world. He always got a weird, tingling feeling around them. The spirit shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself.  _Go away,_  he thought,  _I just want to be left alone. Why is that too much to ask?_  He closed his eyes and tried to summon the netherworld. He could visit Lily's grave another time. He never saw it as his grave. He was still around, he wasn't gone just yet, and so it wasn't his resting place. Usually it was fairly easy to slip into the light, he usually just had to think about it, and he would be there. Nevertheless, it resisted his pull. James gritted his teeth and pulled harder.  _Please, just please let me jump this one Halloween_. Suddenly it stopped resisting, and James almost fell into the white cold.

…

* * *

…

When he came to it again, he blinked his eyes in disorientation. For the first time in a decade he felt heavy, his head ached and the room moved. It felt like he had a fever. He sat forward to put his head between his legs and took a couple of deep breath. He didn't need to breathe ordinarily, but it felt like the right thing to do. If the breathing helped, he did not know, but after a few moments, the room stopped spinning and his head cleared up. James sat up and sighed.  _I'm not going to do that ever again._ It was obvious that the netherworld was punishing him for trying to stay away from Halloween.  _Got it, got it. Never again._

James looked around the room. He was in a large, dark room. He could sense that there were countless other people here. Squinting a little, he could see outline of the closest, but they were nothing more than shadows. He frowned.  _What is going on?_ Was he in another limbos plane? Had whoever that had granted him more time in the world of the living decided that he was too much of a bother to keep? He felt panic surge threw him.

"Hello? Can you see me?" he prompt the person on his left. "Where am I? What is going on?" There came no reply. He looked around again. It looked like everyone was sitting, looking closer he realized he was sitting too, and stood. After a few seconds, he climb up on the chair. He looked around feverishly.

"Hello!? Can anyone tell me what's going on? Where are we?" Again, he got no reply. No one even looked in his direction, as far as he could tell. Everyone seemed to be looking in the same direction, and so he followed their gaze. A little further away there was a bright light. The spirit's hope rose. It looked just like the light when he saw Lily again.  _A way out?_ He scrambled off the chair and started to slither between the chairs, trying to get nearer the light.

Before he got any closer, music started to play across the room. James stopped abruptly and looked around nervously.  _That wasn't anything I did, was it?_  No one seem to react but to lean closer towards the light. After a few moments the light diminished to reveal a stage. Upon the stage, there were few furniture. A red couch, a chair, a small table and a door not attached to anything in the corner. A few seconds later, James recognized the display.  _It's my living room! And my furniture. But what are they doing here?_ He blinked his eyes a few seconds before groaning, remembering what he saw earlier today.

 _Merlin's beard. You got to be kidding me_. They had turned his house into a theater play. It was still Halloween and he was still in the land of the living. He didn't know if he should be relieved or not. For one, the entire thing was ridiculous, for the second, he was still stuck in this world, unable to move on to paradise.

On the stage, a small man appeared. He had a big mustache where the tips curled upwards. On his head he had a black, silk hat, and what looked like living frogs attached to it. They moved around, but it could just as well be an illusion. He had a big potato nose, with small spectacles on, looking like if they had grown attached to it like a witches' mushroom. The little man wore a brown coat down to his knees; it almost looked too big on him. From the pocket, he retrieved a wand and pointed it at his throat.

"Witches and wizards, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to this house of Sorrow," boomed the voice over the crowd. "We are honored to have you all as our guests as we on this day relive the horror that happened ten years ago." With that, he left the stage. James groaned and sat down on a vacant chair.  _They've turned our deaths into a theater play, Lily. Can you believe it?_

The unattached door suddenly opened and a man carrying a small boy in his arms entered through it. A small awe could be heard in the room, as some craned their necks to see the behind the door.  _It must be a magical portal. Neat trick_ , the spirit thought. The man carried the boy towards the couch and sat down. James looked closer, and realized that it was William, his look-alike. _Well, at least there is someone handsome playing me_.

"Oh Harry," William started with a soft voice. "You are such a good boy. It's too bad I cannot show you the world yet, not as long as the dark lord keeps us trapped in this humbled home." James snorted in disgust.  _I would never say such a thing!_  The little boy grabbed at his nose and William chuckled. "You have one too." He then grabbed 'Harry's' nose, pretending to steal it.

The door opened again, and out came a woman with red, long hair. She laid her hand on her hips and smiled warmly. "Look at my two boys. Aren't you just the cutest?"

William looked up and smiled wryly. "Harry is the cute one. I'm handsome."

Someone chuckled close to James and mumbled: "Just like James." The spirit leaned closer trying to see whomever that spoke. The voice sounded familiar. However, he couldn't see anything in the dark, so he looked back at the stage. William was currently entertaining not-Harry with making puffs of colored smoke erupt from his wand. James looked away and bit his lip. He had seen this scene a hundred times before in his mind; he wished not to experience it again.

A few moments later people gasped, and James looked up at the stage again reluctantly. It was as he had thought: 'Lord Voldemort' had entered. The actor playing the dark lord moved graciously forward. He wore a dark and grey robe that looked like it flowed around him like smoke when he walked. With a swift motion, he pulled his wand out and pointed it at the couple.

"Good evening Potters. It seems like we finally get a chance to get acquainted," he said with smooth voice. Meanwhile, William had stood from the couch and given 'Lily' the child and stood in between them, his own wand pointed at the Dark Lord.

"The pleasure is entirely on your side, Lord Voldemort," he growled. A few gasped and shivered as the forbidden name was said, but none interrupted. Apparently they had gotten permission to use the name in this play. They were playing the 'heroic' James Potter after all.

William turned half around and looked at 'Lily' and 'Harry'. "Lily, take Harry and go. I'll hold him off." Lily hesitated but nodded. "Be careful," she said as she turned around.

"Oh, no you don't." The dark lord pointed his wand at the women and a green spark erupted from the wand and shot forward. The fake-James blocked it.

"You are not getting to my family, scum. Leave now, and I'll let you keep your pride."

'Lord Voldemort' smirked and snorted softly in amusement. "You think you are any match for me, blood-traitor? I am the most powerful dark wizard born in centuries. You are both an insect in front of me."

"And still you feel threatened by my insignificance," William answered flippantly, earning him some laughter from the audience. _Well, this is much more entertaining them my own meeting_ , the real-James thought with amusement, but also a little resentment and jealously. He would have felt much better with the losing if he could have put up some more fight. If he could be the hero so many thought he was.

The Dark Lord hissed in annoyance and cast another spell at 'James'. Again he was blocked, but that didn't stop the lord. Repeatedly he throw spells and curses at the other man. Each time the curses were blocked, some even reflected back.

"I will not be easily defeated, I will rather die than let you hurt my family. Leave now, Voldemort, for alone you cannot win."  _How I wish that was true._

The villain stopped his casting and looked thoughtful. "I may have underestimated you, Potter. Let's say we come to an agreement. If you join me, I'll let your mudblood wife live."

William lifted an eyebrow. "And what about Harry?"

'Voldemort' shook his head. "He must be destroyed. The prophecy tell that the boy will be my ending. You must understand that it is necessary to kill the child."

William lowered his wand and looked thoughtfully over the crowd. "What do you say? Should I abandon all that his good and join the shadows? Should I save my wife and myself but live in the knowledge that it was by the cost of my own son? Or should I fight for my wizard brothers in the light!? So that all can be free and safe from evil!"

"Fight!" the crowd answered.

William lowered his head and turned back to Voldemort. "Your invitation is ever so tempting, but I say nay. I will rather eat dragon feces, than join the company of fools." Some of the audience chuckled softly.

Voldemort hissed. "You will regret that answer. For your insolence, you shall die slow and painful!" Again the two fought, sending spells and curses back and forwards. Colorful sparks flew over the room, making some gasps in surprise. A few children stood from their seats, trying to catch the friendly magic with their small hands.

"Did I not tell you, my lord? He would not yield nor join our side. For that he is too much of a stubborn and proud fool."

The fighting seized as a man entered the stage through the door. He wore a black robe, not unlike the one that the actor playing Lord Voldemort wore, only simpler. He had black hair down to his shoulder and one could tell from the distance that he was strikingly handsome. James frowned in confusion.  _What is happening now?_

William gaped at the new commoner and stuttered. "S-Sirius? W-what are you d-doing here?"

'Sirius' smirked in responds. "I went to see for myself if the job was done, my dear James."

"The job?" Fake-James frowned in confusion, before it dawned to him. "You told him were to find us! You traitor! How could you? You were my best friend, my brother!" He growled and pointed his wand at 'Sirius'.

The actor shrugged, before smiling malicious. "Friendship isn't everything. It does not put a roof over my head nor can it give me power. Face it, James. We are losing this war. Better except our loss and join the winning side,  _the right side_."

'James' looked at him shocked. "How can you say such things? We trusted you and took you in with open arms." He shook his head, opened his mouth a couple of times, looking at loss at what to say. Lord Voldemort huffed a little.

"No matter how much I enjoy seeing this reunion, I have a few things to settle, and I'd rather be done with them sooner rather than later." He lowered his wand and glanced at 'Sirius'. "Finish him off." With that, he started to walk in the direction 'Lily' and 'Harry' went.

William turned around and pointed his wand at the Dark Lord. "No you won't. Stay were you are," he growled. 'Sirius' found his wand and pointed it at 'James'. "Expelliarmus!" The wand flew out of his hand and fell on the couch. William stared lost down on his hand as Voldemort disappeared from the scene. He turned around the face 'Sirius'.

"Why?" he mumbled softly. "Why would you betray me? Were we not always best friends? Did I do something to anger you that you felt you had to leave?"

'Sirius' softened and shook his head. "I'm sorry James. But I have no choice. I don't want to die. I'm sorry it ended up like this. But the death of one is of the good of many. The dark Lord will cleanse the world and make it better and safe for all wizard and magic kind. There will be no more need of hiding." He smiled softly and lowered his wand. "Could you not reconsider and join us? With you by my side, we would be all powerful and able to create a better world out of the ashes of this one. Please James," he pleaded. "I wish not to kill you if I don't need to. But I will not hesitate if you force my hands."

William growled. "Fuck you, Sirius. How can you except me to join you when your lord is in the other room slaughtering my wife and my son. Your  _godson_  for Merlin's sake!" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He opened his eyes a few seconds later. "It's not too late to change your mind, friend. We can still stop this. With your help we can defeat Voldemort. Together."

'Sirius' shook his head. "Don't you understand!? We can't defeat him," he growled in responds. "You can only join them or perish. That's your only option."

William sneered. "You're a coward. How could I ever believe you were worthy to be my friend? If that is the only options. Then kill me!" He took his out to his side and looked defiantly. "What are you waiting for?! Kill me!" 'Sirius' hesitated and looked around a little desperately. William huffed and let his arms fall.

"I thought so. Too much of a coward to back up your words." He started move forwards.

"Stay were you are!" 'Sirius' cried, almost pathetically. The wand pointed at 'James' shivered. "I will do it." William snorted and continue towards him. 'Sirius' closed his eyes and mumbled: "Forgive me." He opened his eyes again and yelled. "Avada Kadavra!" The green spark hit William straight in the chest and was thrown backwards. 'Sirius' dropped his wand and ran towards him, dropping down on his knees.

"James, Merlin, James. I'm sorry. But I had no choice. Why wouldn't you join us, you idiot! It's all your fault."

James stood from where he was sitting and growled in anger. Ever since the appearance of Sirius, he felt the boiling rage inside of him. It was enough that he had been thrown in jail for being a death eater and killing a dozen people. But now apparently accused for killing James personally? That was too much to handle.

" ** _THIS IS WRONG!_** "

No one battered an eye, but leaned forward as the stage switch to that of a bedroom.

"Wrong!" he yelled again. Anger roared through him. Why can't they see reason? Sirius was not a traitor. He felt like tramping his feet like a child. Without meaning too, his anger summoned up a strong wind for the second time today. The closest to him stood and started to scream in panic as hats, chairs and purses started to fly. The few persons closest flew backwards.

"It's the spirit!" Someone yelled, and again, for the second time today, it was chaos. People screamed trying to get a way, other trying to get closer to get a better look at the spirit of the house. The play had stopped and the actors were trying to calm people down. No one listened.

Soon the room was emptied, leaving only a few battered souls left. The chairs kept flying and dashing around everywhere, as James let his anger out. He was sick and tired of people thinking wrong of Sirius. Why could not anyone think that perhaps Sirius was the wrong man to accuse? Alright, he had to admit it looked shady. Sirius had been found in a place with dead muggles, and people did think that Sirius was their secret-keeper. But Merlin! He was tired of it.

James let is anger subside after a while. The chairs fell down with loud noises. He sat down on one of them and cradled his face. He was so tired of this. Not being able to change things, only to be an observer. He couldn't help free Sirius. He couldn't help Remus nor bring his wife back from the dead. At least Harry was happy now. He had gotten new friends at Hogwarts and even flown on a broomstick! His son fit straight in on Hogwarts. Harry was finally safe and happy. For a decade now he had watched and followed him around. Wasn't it time for James to get some rest?

A sound and the tingle feeling of magic made him look up. He blinked. Around him, there was a red-orange force field. He pushed the barrier with a finger tentatively. Electricity shook through his arm. He retrieved his arm quickly and stuck the finger into his mouth.  _That hurt._  His arm felt tingly and weak.  _Fuck,_  he thought franticly.  _I'm trapped!_  He looked around quickly, but there didn't appear to be any way out.  _Fuck._

"What do we have here, Minerva? Malevolent spirit perhaps. Or mayhap just a lonely one."

James looked up and froze in surprise. Outside the magical barrier stood and old, tall, thin man with silver hair and a beard so long that it was tucked into his belt. He had a long and crooked nose that looked like it had broken twice and wore a crimson-red robe. Next to him stood a tall, black-haired witch in emerald green robes. She also wore a pointed hat cocked to one side. She gave the wizard a bewildered look.

"What are you talking about, Albus? There is nothing there." (2)

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and a small smile stretched across his lips. "You are not looking close enough, my dear. If you know what you are looking for, you can easily sense a spirit. However, I have never felt one quite like this." He looked at James, no, he looked  _through_  the spirit, thoughtful. "There are many kinds of spirits. Earth, water, wind, some even just passing by to another plane of existence."

James stood and looked back at the old wizard. Disappointment surge through him. For a second he had thought Dumbledore could see him. If that was the case, he could easily pledge Sirius' innocence.

"If you say so," McGonagall replied reluctantly. She looked into the barrier trying to see or sense the spirit. However, it just felt like any other empty space of air. "What should we do with it? It has created a lot of disturbing for the guests over the years. You are sure it's not an evil spirit created by you-know-who?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm certain. He means no harm. A dark creature would've hurt and even killed visitors who dared entered the house. This one just tries to scare them off. Maybe it woke from the terrible actions that happened a decade ago and just tries to protect people. Who knows?" He looked at McGonagall. "He didn't react before 'James' died after all."

She sighed and rubbed her face. "You are right as always, Albus. No one got hurt, except for a few broken pieces of chairs." She looked thoughtfully at them. "I hear earlier that there was incident at the graveyard earlier. The same wind. Could it be the same spirit?"

Again, Dumbledore nodded. "I believe so, yes. The cults were arguing again, he might've reacted to the heated fight. Not liking violence. A peaceful spirit it seems like he is."

McGonagall waved a hand. "That's all nice and everything. But what are  _we_  going to do with  _it_?" Dumbledore scratched his beard.

"We could take him with us to Hogwarts."

" _No_ ," McGonagall hissed. "We are not taking a possible hazardous spirit to the school! If it hurt any of the students we'd never hear the end of it!"

"I'd like it if you'd just let me go, really," James said, looking back and forward between the two. The teachers froze in surprise and looked into the magical barrier. _"It can talk!?"_  James looked just as surprised back at them: He had not expected that they could actually hear him. It was obvious that neither could see him, but somehow the magical barrier made it possible to make out what he was saying. " _You can hear me?!_ " he gaped.

"Seems like he's intelligent." Dumbledore chuckled, his ice-blue eyes twinkled in amusement, and curiosity.

"Of course I am. Now, I do apologize for this mess." He waved a hand at the chairs. "I just have a really bad temper, and unfortunately not enough self-control."

"That's alright, Mr. Spirit. We all have bad days," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling even more. McGonagall gaped like a fish. "B-B-but i-it c-c-an t-talk."

James chuckled softly. "And  _it_  would prefer if you'd call him a  _he_." Albus grinned a little, then proceed to stroke his beard, trying not to look like he enjoyed himself when McGonagall glared at him. She looked back at the spirit and pursed her lips.

"I'm sorry, I was not aware you had gender. Do you have a name?"

James hesitated. Should he tell them? Would they believe him? For all they knew the spirit could be bluffing to joke with them. He decided that  _no, it wasn't time yet_. He couldn't tell anyone that he was still around. He trusted Dumbledore and McGonagall, but a part of him told him he shouldn't. Not yet.

"Could you release me? I promise to keep my temper next time."

McGonagall and Dumbledore shared a glance, before looking at him again. "We might as well. You are clearly a conscious being that would not harm anyone, so there is no need to find a way to get rid of you." With that, the old wizard waved a hand, and the magical barrier vanished. "Now. If it is alright with you, we'd like to continue the play."

James nodded. "Of course you can. Sorry about all of this." They didn't respond though, only stared at the spot.  _Doesn't look like they can hear me anymore_. However, it didn't matter. He felt something pull at him back in his head. James closed his eyes and opened up to it, the feeling was familiar. With a last thought, he was finally pulled away from consciousness and into the bright nothingness of the netherworld.

_Happy Halloween._

* * *

…

(1). In my language we call them something like "crying wives" or "mourning wives". It sounds much better in my language in my opinion. It's 'gråtekoner' or 'sørgekoner' if you were wondering. Or do you have a specific name for these people that I am unaware of? Please let me know if that is the case. I'd be very grateful.

(2) I am aware the Dumbledore and McGonagall should be at Hogwarts dealing with the troll situation on Halloween 1991. But let's just say it's either earlier before the feast or later on.


	15. Chapter 15

"You should have seen him, he was amazing." James eyes shone as he waved his hands in the air. "He's a natural on the broomstick, Sirius. Just as I was." He grinned as he said the last bit. "Not as good as I was, but he has potential. He's just a first year, but still he's on a Quidditch team. Can you believe it! A first year! My son!"

James beamed proudly and continued waving his hands in the air, explaining different feints and tactics. Sirius hummed and made noises at the appropriate moments, not really paying attention to James. Knowing James as a teenager, he never shut up about Qudditch, and he had learned long ago to just tune him out when he was like this.

Instead, he absorbed every expression and movement James made. He looked rather adorable, beaming like an idiot, but Sirius didn't have heart to comment on it. He hadn't seen James happy like this for years. For just a few moments, he could pretend he was back in Hogwarts and joking around with his mates. Sirius cocked his head as James jumped up, trying to explain a move with his hands, failing as one of his arms flew through one of the walls. Sirius chuckled. James looked back at him curiously, before noticing his mistake. He blushed. "Sorry." He sat down again.

"Don't be, I think it's cute how excited you are."

The ghost huffed. "I'm not cute, I'm handsome." Sirius bit his lip, so as not to comment on that. He changed the topic.

"So Harry is fitting well in Hogwarts?"

James nodded. "Yeah. Pretty well. He fits just in. He even has friends now." Sirius smiled softly.

"I know how that goes. I didn't get any friends before I came to Hogwarts. That's when my life started. When I got to meet you and Remus and P-" He stopped himself and looked away, feeling guilty. For a second there he forgot about all of that. He preferred pretending it had never happened when James was around. Any other time he could swallow in self-piety.

For a while, no one said anything. Both of them in their own thought. James was the one who broke the silence.

"Yeah, me too. The best days of my life was the one I could spend with you guys." James smile was tender, and Sirius heart quicken its pace.

"I'm sorry I haven't been to see you for a while, Sirius. I've just been busy-"

Sirius interrupted with a snort. "Don't be sorry. I know Harry is more important. You had him to look after, mate. Don't worry about me, I'm fine alone. Been for ten years." The words didn't ease James as he'd though. He looked guilty.

"You are important too, Sirius. It's my fault you are in here after all."

Sirius looked confused. "How do you recon that?"

"Well, if I haven't been so stupid and gotten myself killed, you wouldn't be here." Sirius flinched. Had James really thought like that? For how long? It was absolutely nonsense. How can anyone blame James for dying? James was looking down, his body stiff, like he always did when he felt bad or sad or just worried. Sirius tried meeting his eyes.

"Hey, don't be silly. It's not your fault. How could it? It's my fault for not taking the job as your secret keeper. I was the one who begged you to take Peter instead." Sirius' smile turned bitter.

James shook his head. "No, Padfoot. You couldn't have known."

"Neither could you!" The spirit looked up in surprise from Sirius angry tone.

"Yeah, but I should have protected her! It's my job." He met Sirius angry gaze with his own.

"Lily could take care of herself, and you know it. She was a better spell caster then both of us combined, James. We don't live in a eighteen century home where the man is suppose to protect his family. Lily was a great witch. So stop blaming yourself." James didn't back down though. He kept glaring at Sirius. The prisoner sighed after a few second and looked down.

"I don't want to fight you, James. If you are in a bad mood, please go somewhere else. I know you can't talk to anyone else. But please. I can't take this." He curled his arms around his legs and looked down. Almost immediately, James expression softened, and the anger turned into guilt. "I'm sorry. It's just. It' was the anniversary the other day of her death, and I-" he stopped and looked away, so that Sirius couldn't read his expression. He didn't need too, though. He felt the same bang of guilt and sorrow.  _Has it really been ten years?_

"It's alright," he mumbled instead. "I know how you feel. Lily was my friend too. And I lost you." James looked back at him, his smile tender now.

"You know. I never think about it as my death. It's always hers. I feel like I'm alive, even though I'm not really here, I'm not really dead. Not yet, at least." Sirius didn't have an answer for that, and so they sat in silence for a long while. It had been quite some time since the last time he had seen James. Months actually. He didn't mention it, though. He knew how time was different for the spirit. Some nights he woke up thinking that the entire thing had just been a dream. That James hadn't really been there at all. Other times he thought he had gone insane like rest of the inhabitance of Azkaban. He spent hours waiting for James to come back. In his worse moment he would cry and yell and beg to get him back. Sirius shook his head, not wanting to think about those times. ' _I'm pathetic'_ he thought bitterly,  _'wanting nothing more in life then to see the face of a dead friend again'_. Still there was nothing he wanted more then another precious moment with James.

"So, you were telling me about Harry's first Quidditch game." he asked softly after a while. Hating the silence between them. James looked back at him again.

"I was, wasn't I?" He bit his lip. "Something strange happened."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Someone cursed Harry's broomstick. Trying to throw him off and hurt him." James expression darkened. "I know who did it too."

"Who?" Sirius asked when James didn't elaborate, anger thick in his voice. Who dared hurting Harry?

"Snape," James growled, eyes narrowing. Sirius sneered.

"Snivellus? What in Merlin's beard is he doing at Hogwarts? How did they let that traitorous snake anywhere near Harry!"

The Spirit shook his head. "I don't know. But he tried killing Harry. If it hadn't been for one of Harry's friends, he would have succeeded."

Sirius clenched his jaw. Merlin how he despised that man. He was a traitor and a slimy snake.  _'I should have killed him while I had the chance_.' He remembered well the day he had lured Severus Snape into the Shrieking Shack. At that time he had felt ashamed for putting Remus in such danger, but now he wished he had pushed Snape in.

"That's not all."

Sirius looked up as James continued to talk.

"There is something strange going on at Hogwarts. I've been following Harry and his friends around and they discovered something." He stopped and looked uncertain. No matter how much Sirius asked, James wouldn't elaborate. Telling him to forget it for the moment. He would only say that something weird was going, and that he would tell him when he knew more. Sirius didn't like it one bit. When had they ever kept anything secret from each other? The spirit left not long after that, promising to come visit again soon and tell him more. Sirius stared at the spot he had been a long while after, feeling lonelier than ever.

"What happened to us, James? Have I done something wrong?"

There was no answer. Sirius sighed and buried his face in his hands. He felt like if James was slipping away from him, and the thought scared him more than anything. He didn't want to be alone again.

"You were born, that's what you did wrong!" Someone called. Sirius gritted his teeth.

"Shut up Mason. No one was talking to you." A female voice said.

"Oh, aye. Little piddle Black was talking to his imaginary friend again. Never shut up, does he."

"Neither does you." The female voice countered. Sirius closed his eyes.  _'Ignore them. Just ignore them Sirius.'_

"That's 'cause I'm fucking iddle Black's imaginary friend behind his back. A good fuck too!" There was noises from the other cell as Mason moved around, groaning. Sirius slapped his hands over his ears. It never stopped. He couldn't take this much longer. Azkaban was hell in it's most purest form. If the dementors didn't torture them, it was their caretakers or the other prisoners. He couldn't tell James about it, it would just make his friend worry. Then there was that nagging feeling in the back of his head telling that James wasn't real.

_He wasn't even sure if James was real._

* * *

James had been following Snape around for the past few days. There was definitely something suspicious about him. In class he treated Harry as dirt, and it infuriated the spirit. Several times he had persuaded Peeves to pull nasty pranks on the teacher. This again caused Snape to in a even worse mood, and who took all the blame? The pupils, specially his son.

It was nearing Christmas and most students had taken the chance to go home in the holiday (perhaps to get away from a certain cranky professor?). James switched between looking after Harry and his friends and spying on Snape. He was certain that Snape was up to something bad. Several times he had caught Snape threatening another teacher. Quirrel or Squriel, James wasn't sure. Names had never been his strong suit. Whenever James wasn't around or was busy looking after Harry, one of the other ghosts would spy on Snape. But so far nothing had happened. It infuriated James even more. Snape had always been a bad egg. If Snape did just one thing wrong, he could get one of the ghosts to tell Dumbledore, and get Snape thrown out of Hogwarts, and hopefully in Azkaban where he belonged.

It was a few nights after Christmas he found himself following after Snape in the dark. The last few nights Snape had been acting strangely at night. He would stop and random times, squint and try to grab after something in the air, before grunting and continue forward. It was amusing as hell in the beginning, but after a few dozen times in a row, it was starting to seem strange. In the beginning, James had thought Harry had been lurking about in the invisible cape (something which he had received a few days earlier), but it didn't seem that way anymore. Not in the way Snape was acting.

James followed him down a hallway. There was nothing new happening. Nothing excited ever happened, and he was starting to think he had being paranoid. Perhaps he had been wrong about Snape? Maybe his ex-enemy wasn't after his son after all. Dumbledore wouldn't let anything bad happened to Harry as long as he was in Hogwarts, he was sure about that. However, he couldn't get the feeling that something was wrong. There was definitely something going on, and it had something to do with Snape. He was sure of it.

Snape stopped in front of him and turned around, looking down the corridor. The spirit ignored the impulse to hide. He knew that snape couldn't see him. Nevertheless, years of hiding and sneaking behind the professors back, he couldn't just ignore the habit. Snape squinted, looked around once more, before continue to walk.

"You are as blind as you are ugly, Snivellus."

Snape didn't answer.

"Deaf too, I see. Just like a bat." He grinned slightly. It was something he did every time he was alone with Snape. Of course the man couldn't hear him. It destroyed some of the fun, but there was nothing else to do in these late hours.

"You know. I never really had anything against you. It was because you were friend with Lily I was so nasty to you. I do apologize for being so cruel. But you have no admit it, you deserved it at times." He sighed and stuck his hand in his pocket. Sometimes, of course. He asked for forgiveness. He felt bad for a lot of things he had done in his youth. He had spent ten years with only himself and his thoughts after all. He had been a pig-headed teenager. Still was he supposed. He still looked like he was only twenty-one. He rubbed his forehead.

"I know you hate me for everything I did when we were younger. Nevertheless, that doesn't excuse what you are doing to Harry. He has nothing to do with this. So leave him alone." He glared at Snape. The spirit knew well it wouldn't change anything. Snape couldn't hear nor see him. But it was better pretending to talk to someone, then talking to himself. Made him feel less alone that way.

Snape kept walking. James sighed again.  _'Why am I doing this? There is no point. I'm not changing anything, and Harry can take care of himself. I'm not needed anymore. I'm simply a relic of the past._ ' They turned a corner and froze as someone stumbled into Snape. Snape lost his footing and fell backwards with the weight of the stranger. James stepped back as arms and feet tangled and flew around. Someone groaned as an elbow hit a stomach and an eye. It was a total mess of maroon, black and white.

"Stay still and I'll roll off," someone hissed. A few seconds later limbs got untangled and the figures stood. For a few moments they were busy straightening clothes, counting limbs and flattening their hair. Snape was the first to recover. He snapped his wand up from the ground and scowled at the intruder.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing-" He stopped abruptly as he recognized the maroon robe, white beard and the twinkling eyes. He paled. "My apologize Albus, I wasn't aware you were out so late."

"Nonsense," Dumbledore waved a hand. "It's my fault, I should have looked where I was going. It's never a good idea to wander around without light around at night. I was just simply seeing if I could find my way back to my courters in the dark. Should have realized it was a fools attempt after the first dozen times of walking into walls and knocking things over."

James grinned as Dumbledore's ice blue eyes twinkled playfully. Snape looked like he didn't know how to respond.

"You should be more careful." He said at last after a few awkward moments. Again, Dumbledore waved a hand dismissive.

"You worry too much, Severus. When you get to be my age, you don't really bother with being careful. You have six feet in the grave already. Goodnight, Severus." He was off before Snape got to answer. They stared after the old man.

"One can't count either at that age it seems."

Snape shook his head, not seeming to find his comment amusing (Not that he could hear him). The professor mumbled something under his breath, before continuing the night stroll. James followed.

"He's right you know. You should relax more. You walk around like if you got a broom up your ass." The Spirit smirked. "Honestly, Snape. It's one of the reason we made fun of yeh. You were too up-tight. Reading too much." He shrugged. There was no answer.

* * *

_'Snape is still an ass_ ,' James concluded a few days later.  _'No, wait. He has always been one, Now he's a greasy git, sour and an awful person. What in Avalon's heavens was Lily thinking befriending him?_ ' He shook his head in disgust. He was sitting in the back in a potion class. The entire time Snape had been coming with cruel and nasty comments to Harry and the other Gryffindors. ' _What was Dumbledore thinking of hiring him as a teacher? He's awful with children._ ' James curled a lip in disgust.

"What is the main ingredients in the wolfbane potion, Potter?"

"Uhm," answered Harry. Hermione waved a hand in the air.

"Uhm is not a legitimate ingredient, Potter. It's not even a word. Five points from Gryffindor for stupidity"

The gryffindor groaned, while the Slytherin sniggered. Snape sneered at them. "Five more points from Gryffindor for interrupting the class." This time the lions held their tongue, however, they glared back at the professor.

James snorted in disgust. He'd make Snape pay for that later. No wondered the snakes had won the house cup the past few years if Snape gave everyone minus point for no legitimate reason.

Harry glanced back at him with a small smile on his lips. He's eyes said '  _What an ass._ ' James could do nothing but to grin back. "Just what I was thinking, son."

The class ended soon enough. The lions where out of the door first. Harry gave a slight wave before disappearing after his friends. James could hear Ronald Weasley complain. "Can you believe Snape? He took away twenty bleeding points for 'naught!"

The door was closed as the last pupil left. The ghost turned to the professor.

"That was completely unnecessary, Snape. You can't expect everyone to be a freak of nature like you."

Snape didn't answer. He sat down and pulled a few documents in front of him. James stood and went to the desk. He looked down on the papers.

"You can't go on like this, you know. Sooner or later they'll notice how horrible you are as a teacher and throw you out." He glared at the sitting man. "You don't deserve all of this, you know. Not after all you've done." He shook his head. "And after Lily was ready to forgive you." He bit his lip, trying not to remember. Nevertheless, in this, he had no choice.

...

_It was Harry's first birthday. They had been stuck in the cabin since early March, and was feeling rather lonely. Few knew of their location and fewer visited. The last five months they had only seen Dumbledore and Sirius. Remus couldn't visit as he was deep undercover in the werewolf community, and Peter was busy. That morning Lily had felt nauseous, something she had been the last few mornings. James reckoned it was from worry. They didn't get much news of the world from their secluded cabin. Dumbledore had restricted the use of owls so that they wouldn't be discovered. Only with important information where they allowed to send or recieve one. Otherwise they had to wait once a week for their weekly visitor with supplies. Occasionally Sirius would come as a messenger, but it had been a while since they had seen him._

_James sighed and rubbed his face. Sitting still for so long was killing him. He was used to spending time in the field or play Quidditch when he was restless. However, he wasn't allowed to go outside, none of them were. After five months, it had started to get to them. Every week they got news of friends or acquaintances who had died. They could do nothing but weep and worry,_

_"You shouldn't worry so much, James." He didn't turn as Lily put a hand on his shoulder. He kept his gaze looking out the window._

_"I miss it too. But its for the sake of Harry. We can't let anyone harm him."_

_James sighed. "I know, I know." He turned around to face his wife. "I just don't like being stuck inside without being able to do anything."_

_Lily nodded and took her arms around him. She rested her head on his chest. James kissed her head and wrapped his arms around her. She didn't need to say anything, James knew she felt just like him. It was a conversation they'd had a hundred times._

_"How are you feeling?" he mumbled softly._

_"I'm fine. Just a stomach flu." She hesitated before saying the last bit. James frowned._

_"Something you've eaten? Harry and I have been eating the same things as you. I don't feel anything."_

_Lily smiles softly. "And thank Merlin for that. Wouldn't do to have all three of us puking all over." She released him and bumped her finger against his nose. James hummed softly._

_"True." He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. Lily giggled softly and stepped back. "Go and watch Harry for a bit, love. I have to take a shower," James nodded and watched her leaving, a soft smile on his lips._

_Harry was in the kitchen playing with a  blue spoon. As he spotted his father, Harry started to gurgle and threw the spoon at him. James caught it easily and smiled a lop-sided smile._

_"Thanks for that, handsome. Always wanted a blue spoon full of drool." He put the spoon back on the table and ruffled his hair. Harry gurgled in response._

_"I know. It's a lovely spoon. But you are the birthday boy today, you are the one who are supposed to get presents." He sat down smiling and started to feed Harry the rest of his porridge. After that, he picked Harry up and took him to the living room. He watched Harry play with a flying broomstick-toy. "You are such a good lad, Harry." He smiled softly at his son. He loved Harry and spending time with him. However, no matter how much he loved him, he wished at times Harry hadn't been born so he could leave the house and fight along with his friends in the field. Fight to protect all he loved and cherished._

_He frowned a little._ 'What am I thinking? I love Harry. I want to fight so he can be safe. Both he and Lily _. He glanced at the clock, suddenly realizing that Lily had been gone for an hour. James stood. "Stay here, son. I'll be back in a moment, alright? I'm just going to see how mama is doing." Harry gurgled in answer and hit the flying broom. James nodded. "That you are, Harry. A good boy."_

_He found Lily in the bathroom. She was sitting on the floor, staring down._

_"Lily, is everything alright?" He looked worried and knelt next to her. When she didn't look up, he put two fingers under her chin._

_"Lily, look at me."_

_She bit her lip, and looked up. Worried eyes met red-puffy ones._

_"Have you been crying?" Lily pushed his hand a way and buried her head in her hands._

_"Lily!" said James desperately. "What's wrong?" He looked around urgently, trying to find whatever had hurt his wife. Lily grabbed his arm, not looking at him, she placed something in his hand. James fingers curled around the object, he searched her face before looking at his hand. He lost his breath almost immediately._

_"Oh," he mumbled._

_"Yeah," Lily answered._

_"Oh," James repeated. Now it was Lily's time to search his face, and James' time to avert his gaze._

_"I'm pregnant," said Lily after a small pause._

_James could do 'naught but nod. They sat there staring at each other for a long while. James mustered a small smile._

_"Well, that's brilliant. Another mini-me." Lily snorted and swatted his arm._

_"This time we are getting a girl. I always wanted to have a little baby girl. I want to call her Iris or Anemone. The flower names goes in the family."_

_James wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the head,_

_"It sounds perfect, Lily. Iris or Anemone Potter. It sounds like a beautiful baby girl. I'd love to be her father."_

_Lily started to cry. James tightened his grip and rocked her, mumbling nonsense to calm her down. Lily calmed down after a while._

_She rubbed her eyes._

_"I love you, James. More than anything."_

_"I better hope so," he grinned._

_Lily slapped him on the arm. "You are so annoying at times."_

_"Yeah, but I'm your annoying husband, and you love me."_

_"You are so cocky." James grinned in responds and wriggled his eyebrows. Lily pursed her lips. He let go of her and sat up._

_"I have to get back to Harry. He's all alone out there." He stood, but didn't get anywhere as Lily grabbed his arm._

_"James," she mumbled uncertain. He turned towards her, curiously._

_"Yeah?" he asked, when she didn't say anything. Lily licked her lips._

_"Can you. Can you do me a favor?" James knelt down again. He stroke her skin._

_"Anything for you, Lils, you just have to ask."_

_She hesitated before blurting. "Could we make Severus the godfather?" James flinched._

_"I-. Lily-" He looked away. Lily tightened her grip on his arm._

_"Please. For me? Severus is my best friend. I want him back in my life when the war is over. I miss him just as much as you miss Sirius." James looked guilty at that. He bit his lip._

_"Lily."_

_"Please. Its three years since Hogwarts. There is no point of childhood fighting anymore. You'd like him if you get to know him. I'm sure of it."_

_James rubbed his face. "Fine, fine. I'll try to get along with Sniv-Snape. For you." Lily squealed and hugged him._

_"Thank you, thank you!" James hugged her back, mumbling under his breath: "I'm so going to regret this later."_

...

...

James shook the memory away. He clutched his chest and bit his lip. Again, he wished he could cry. He hadn't just failed Lily, but their unborn baby as well. It was a memory he suppressed, one that he could not think off. He sank down on the ground.  _'Lily, I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry._ ' The ghost stared at the ground, but he could feel no pain or no sorrow, and he felt even worse for that.  _'She would be nine years. My baby girl would be nine years old_.' He glanced at Snape.

"Perhaps you wouldn't be a cruel, bitter man if Iris Anemone had been born." He clenched his hand. Another person he had failed.

How long he sat on the ground, he did not know. It did not matter, for he didn't matter. He had failed everyone. Lily, Harry, his baby girl, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Severus, everyone. If he had just been faster, stronger, braver, he could have done more. ' _No_ ,' he thought,  _'I'm useless. Always have been, always will be_.' When it was time to leave, he didn't struggle. He let the otherworld devour him.

_Maybe, if I'm lucky, I wont wake up this time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I think about this chapter. It's both angsty and silly at the same time. The part with the backslash is actually true. Rowling revealed a few months ago that Lily was actually pregnant with her second child when she died, and had finally talked James into making peace with Snape, even wanted to make him the child's godfather. Ever since I heard that, I just knew I had to have the part into my story. I was gonna do more with this, but decided it would get too complicated and again, silly. Did the flashback go alright? Is it how you thought the scene would go in the book? Or do you have your own theory. Please let me know what you think.
> 
> I'm sorry about the part with Sirius. I feel like I'm going in circle with those two. Like I have the same dialog every time they meet *shakes head* I'll try to come up with something better.


	16. Chapter 16

The first few seconds were always confusing and disorientating. Especially in an unfamiliar place. James blinked his eyes a few time to get used to the new lighting. He looked around. He was in a large room. Occupying the center of the room was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top:  _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

It took him a few moments to recognize Harry. The boy stood in front of the mirror with one of his teachers' behind him. Crimson robe laid by the boy's feet. The spirit frowned in confusion. 'What's going on?' He couldn't hear them, and so he moved closer. As he got closer, the teacher grabbed his turban and started to unwrap the cloth. James gasped and took a step back. There was a face (A freaking face!) on the guy's head. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snakes. James shivered as the face started to talk.

"Harry Potter," it whispered. James could see Harry shiver. It was obvious he was fighting against the need to run away. James knew the feeling well. Goosebumps shivered down his arms. He had an inkling feeling he knew what was going on here.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapour…" The voice droned on, the sound cold and dry. It's low voice made it hard for the ghost to catch his words. Harry suddenly stumbled backwards. "LIAR!" The boy yelled. James gritted his teeth in anger. He didn't know what was going on. All he knew was that his son was in trouble.

"Stay away from my son!" he growled as Quirrell started to walk backwards towards Harry. He did not want that… thing anywhere near Harry. The evil face smiled.

"How touching …," it hissed. "I always value bravery … Yes, boy, your parents were brave … I killed your father first and he put up a courageous fight … but your mother needn't have died … she was trying to protect you … Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain." The face's word tore into him. Thoughts of failure and dismay overcome him. And now, he might for a second time in his life, let Harry down.

"NEVER!"

The next thing the ghost knew, Harry was running towards a door flickered with black flames. "Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" The face shrieked. Quirrell tore forward, grabbing Harry's wrist. James growled, anger ripped through him. However, before he could react, the two figures screamed and flinched away from each other. Harry looked panicked around, pale and looked like he was in pain. Quirrell hunched forward in agony. He whimpered and looked at his fingers – they were blistering before their eyes.

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" Voldemort shrieked again. Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean of his feet, landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck. They screamed. Harry squirmed, his face crunched in pain. Quirrell wasn't better off.

"Get off him!" James growled. He ran towards them.

"Master! I cannot hold him – my hands – my hands!" Quirrel gasped and let go of the boy's neck. He pinned Harry against the floor with his legs. He was staring bewildered at his blistering palms. They looked burnt, raw, red and shiny. James knitted his eyebrows in confusion. What was going on? He was grateful for it nonetheless. There was nothing he could do to stop the scene in front of him.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done with it!" screeched Voldemort. James froze in panic.

"No!" He screamed as Quirrell raised his hand to perform the deadly curse. James lunged towards him. He had to do something, anything. He had to save Harry, even if it meant he had to die… again. However, he knew he wouldn't make it. Suddenly Harry reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face.

"AAAARGH!"

The teacher rolled of him, his face blistering too. Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm and hung on a tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off.

"Kill him! Kill him!" Voldemort yelled.

"Harry! Harry!" James cried. How had it gotten to this? His son was so brave, but he hated how defenseless he was against anything solid. Quirrel managed to wrench his arm away from Harry. The boy slummed to the ground, as if he'd lost his strength. The Teacher whimpered, cradling his arm.

"Kill him now," Voldemort hissed. James narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, no you don't." Concentrating on his anger (and panic), he tried to push Quirrell. His arms went through him. The teacher straightened and grabbed his wand. He loomed over the boy on the ground.

"Goodbye Harry Potter."

"Now, do it now."

James gritted his teeth, trying not to drown in despair. He wouldn't lose anyone else to Voldemort again.  _I have to do this. I have to save our son, Lily. Please._ He closed his eyes. He had done this a dozen times before, but the one time he really needed to be able to use his powers, the control eluded him. He took a breath (which he technically didn't need) and opened his eyes. Holding out his hands he pushed once, twice in the air. At the third try, Quirrell lost his footage, and the fourth he was hurled across the room with a puff of wind. Shivering, James collapsed next to Harry. Black spots swam before his eyes. He focused on the boy.

"Harry? Harry are you alright?" he mumbled desperately, wanting more than anything to grab his son. Harry looked up at him with a dazed expression.

"Dad?"

James froze. He swallowed. "Yes Harry. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Just hang on, alright?"

Harry nodded slightly, a small smile on his lips. The boy moaned a few seconds later, closed his eyes and passed out.

"Would you look at that."

James jumped as a hoarse voice whispered. The ghost stood and turned, he had forgotten about Voldemort for a second. He narrowed his eyes.

"I told you to stay away from him."

Voldemort clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Always so closed minded, you Potters were. Always wanting to protect everyone. No wonder you all died."

James gritted his teeth and placed himself between Voldemort and his son. Quirrell turned his head towards them and frowned in confusion.

"Who are you talking too, milord? There is no one there."

"Silence!" Quirrell's jaw shut close immediately. The teacher stood there uncertain, not quite knowing what to do. After a few seconds he decided he should start moving forwards to dispose of the Potter-boy. He didn't get far before another wind threw him into a wall.

"Offh," he groaned.

"Useless, just useless." Voldemort sighed from the back of his head. "It's hard getting good help lately." Puff of smoke started to erupt from Quirrell's head. At first, it was only thin threads of white, but it thickened and grew brighter for every moment that passed by.

James took a step back. "What are you doing?" He asked uncertain. Voldemort didn't answer, instead the smoke thickened and levitated away from Quirrell's unconscious body. The smoke rearranged itself, and soon a face peeked up from the smoke. James swallowed.

"Stay away!" He threw another wind it's way, his arm shivering slightly. The smoke scattered, but only for a moment. The smoke gathered again, but this time rearranged itself as a blurred body. Voldemort smirked.

"I'm not going anywhere, Potter." He spat out the last. "But tell me. Why are you still around?" He cocked his head curiously.

"Like hell I'm telling you. Why are you around?" Once again, Voldemort clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"So simple minded."

"I'm not!" James shook his head. He was feeling rattled and uncertain. He had thought Voldemort had died ten years ago, but then again, so had everyone thought about him. He shouldn't have been surprise. If James had found a way to keep 'existing', so would Voldemort. James clenched his jaw.

"Leave. I will not let you hurt my son again."

The smoke lifted an eyebrow. "Hurt him? Who have ever said anything about hurting him?"

James looked confused. "What?"

"Now, now, Potter. You think too ill of me. I'm not a horrible person. All I want is to create a new world where we can all live in peace. But in order to do so, there has to be some sacrifice." When James continued to look confused, Voldemort sighed. "I wish not to hurt the boy. But it cannot be averted. The boy has to die, for the sake of the world."

James growled. "Bull crap. What you do is evil. You want to create a world without love-"

"Without pain and sorrow. A world where no one will ever suffer again. Can't you see? Of course we have to forego somethings. Like unnecessary emotions."

James shook his head. "That's no life, Voldemort. Life is cruel, full of suffering, but it's the love, happiness and companionship that makes life bearable. Take away all of this, and it's no longer living. A hollow existence."

Now Voldemort looked angry. "Of course you'd say that. You who were raised by two loving parents. Don't come here and talk about that when you have never known the pain and suffering of being an outcast. Who cares about the poor orphans? No, Potter," he snarled. "Love and happiness is an illusion the crowd tell themselves so they don't need to see the pain of the world."

James folded his arms. "You are not the only one who has suffered Voldemort. I have lived a decade without being able to hold my son. Without being able to comfort my friends. So don't talk to me about loneliness!"

Voldemort flinched, for a second the face disappeared. When it appeared again, the face made of smoke had an unreadable expression.

"It does not matter. What that must be done, must be done. You will not stand in my way. No one will." The smoke started to move forward. James clenched his fists.

"You will not hurt him. You might've killed my last time. But with the last breath of my existence, I will protect my son!" James threw himself over the smoke, both surprised when he was able to grab him. For a few seconds they wrestled on the floor, both trying to overpowering the other. An elbow in the stomach made James roll off the other. He grabbed his stomach and groaned.

"Fuck," he mumbled. It had been ten years since something had caused him pain, and so it came as quite a shock. When he looked up, Voldemort was gazing at him with a curious, but frightened, expression.

"What are you? How can you touch me in this form when it's not real?"

James simply shook his head. He didn't have an answer to that. Voldemort clicked his tongue again and rose (More like floated. The smoke rearranging itself so it looked like Voldemort was standing).

"It does not matter. You will not stand in my way." He paused. "Unless I could convince you of joining me. I could have use of something like you." He chuckled from the disgusted look on James' face. "I thought not. You Potters are the same. It's a shame though. You are wasting your powers."

James snarled and rose from the ground. "Your existence is wasteful, Voldemort. You should just give up and die. You are even more powerless then me. Now, begone." He lifted his arms and a cold and strong wind blew the smoke away.

"NO!"

James closed his eyes. The scream shaking him to the core, like a banshee. He was scared, utterly terrified. He had thought Voldemort had been vanquished years ago. At least he didn't have any claws anymore. The ghost turned around and gazed at the sleeping form of his son.

"You are safe, Harry." For now. Trembling from the use of so much energy, he collapsed next to Harry again. The black spots swimming in his vision promised him unconsciousness. But he had to hang on to make sure nothing else tried to harm his son. He stayed by Harry's side until the teachers came. Professor Dumbledore was the first to arrive. He looked around with a worried expression.

"Albus, what in the name of Merlin happened here?" McGonagall ran up to him. Her eyes big with fright.

"I do not know, Minerva. Whatever it is, it is not good. We wont know for certain until Harry has woken up." McGonagall noticed the unconscious boy. She gasped.

"Oh dear," she quickly took her wand up and started to levitate the boy out. James sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"I'm sorry I couldn't catch him. But Harry is safe." He nodded softly. "Harry is safe."

He watched Dumbledore walk towards Quirrell and searched him. There was no longer a face on the back of his head. Dumbledore poked him. He didn't move. The headmaster turned him around.

"Oh dear," he mumbled. James frowned and approached him. He looked down at the unconscious man.

"What is it?"

Dumbledore didn't answer. His brows curled in a worried expression. James bit his lip. Something was wrong. He had only seen Dumbledore worried a handful of times. Usually his eyes always twinkled, no matter what. But now, they were replaced by a hollow light.

"Dumbledore," a grave words said slowly, making the both of them jump. They turned around to look at Snape. "I'm sorry. I should've watched professor Quirrell more. I knew he was up to something." He shook his head slowly. Sadness in his face.

Dumbledore sighed and stroke his beard.

"Don't worry about it, Severus. I'm just glad no one got seriously hurt. Voldemort didn't get the Philosopher's stone. That's all that matters." He hesitated. "Though, I'd like to know why not." He mumbled under his breath.

"You are very much welcome." Then he froze. "The Philosopher's stone!" So that's what all this had been about. He glanced around, but could not see it.

Severus nodded gravely. "It was rather foolish of you to have it here. Why did you let that Potter-boy and his friends know about all of this? They are just kids. It's surprising that they didn't all get themselves killed in this foolishness." He narrowed his eyes.

James turned towards Dumbledore to glare at him.

"You put Harry in danger!?"

Dumbledore simply stroke his beard. "They have an interesting and dangerous future in front of them, those kids. I showed them how to be curious, smart, brave and loyal. Those kids, I believe, might save the world. It was a necessary risk."

James snorted in disgust. "Like hell you did. You put Harry in danger! You could have gotten him killed! I did not stay this long just have him dying on your watch. I trusted you!" Anger and fear flashed through him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Dumbledore had done this on purpose? Who could he trust to keep Harry safe now? No one, there was no one. He grabbed his hair and moaned.  _Harry, my Harry_.

Snape and Dumbledore looked up simultaneously.

"What was that?" Snape asked after a few seconds. Dumbledore shook his head.

"I don't know." He looked thoughtful. "Let's get out of here. We can clean this mess up in the morning." Snape nodded and followed the headmaster. The door slammed shut after them.

"Bastards, you bloody bastards." James growled after them. He clenched his fists. How could they do this to him? To his baby boy. No, Harry still needed him. He had to protect him. His son was just a child. James would never let anyone hurt him. Ever.

He turned to stare at the mirror Erised. He stared into it. But he couldn't see anything.  _I don't have a reflection. I'm dead, so I have no right to desire anything_. He sighed and disappeared.

Unbeknownst to him, if he had looked into the mirror again. He had seen a family. Two laughing kids with dark curly hair, emerald eyes and happy smiles. A beautiful red headed woman, and a grinning James. They looked happy. The reflection was only there for a few moments, before it disappeared.


	17. Chapter 17

The hallway was deserted. The entire castle was silent. No kids running around, even though it was in the middle of the day. The teachers talked in whispered voices. The children could sense the grown-ups worry and it effected them gravely. Whenever they went outside the dorms, they clung to each other and walked fast. Even the ghosts could sense the atmosphere and were gliding around silently. Especially after Almost-Headless-Nick was petrified and sent to the hospital. It was depressive. Just a few months ago, Hogwarts had been so full with life. Now it felt more like a haunted house.

James sighed and ruffled his hair. And then there was Harry. His son was acting weird, and James was worried. Harry was lurking about with his friends, chasing voices. The other students avoided him and called him names behind his back. They were scared of him. And then there was that damn book...

James shook his head. He didn't know what was going on, and he didn't like it one bit. Harry was in danger again, and this time he didn't know how to protect him. When even the professors and Dumbledore was scared out of their minds, what could he do?

The spirit crossed his arms and continued his walk down the corridor. For the past week he had been out looking for whatever or whoever that was attacking the students. If he could just find the culprit, then maybe he could figure out how to keep Harry and the rest of the children safe.

James sighed. It had happened a few weeks ago. Mr. Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris had been found, frozen and dangling from a wall. Letters written in blood warning everyone that the  _'Chamber of secret is open_ '. Whatever that was. The spirit had never heard of such a room, if it existed he and the Marauders would have found it ages ago. They had known the school in and out. He had to admit to himself, he wasn't sorry Mrs. Norris had been petrified. The bloody cat had ruined dozens of pranks, and gotten them in a lot of trouble.  _Serves you right_.

James turned another corner. He nodded to a ghost.

"Still out looking are you? You really shouldn't be alone out here. It's dangerous, it is."

James smiled. "I know Galahad. But I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Though, I haven't seen anything." He scratched his head. "Not even a shadow out of place. I'm starting to think this is just a goose chase."

"No, the thing it's out there alright. I heard the Gottwald twins had seen something big on the first floor, near the blue ballroom. They scattered rather quickly. But then again, you know those young ghosts. Keep lying and seeing things." Galahad shook his head.

James suppressed a smile. "You don't say. Perhaps I should go and talk to them. They might've seen something."

The other ghost didn't look convinced, but then again he had always been a paranoid fella. When he was alive in the late seventeenth century, he had used to be well-known potion-master. Specialist in making deadly poison. A long story short, he was sure everyone wanted to poison him and steal his work. In his sixties, he had started to become forgetful, and had accidently drunken a glass of poison, instead of the goblet of wine he had poured himself.

"Be careful now, James Potter. Wouldn't do to lose another of our members. If that happened I think the ghost residence would flee Hogwarts." He nodded gravely. "That would cause problems. A school without ghosts is not a proper place. Did you know that we do a lot of things here? We keep our eye on the children and help newcomers to find their way back to the dorm. We are there if anyone want to talk with a joyful story. All the ghosts and paintings love the kids. Without them we'd be very much depressive." Galahad sighed. "If everyone left, we'd be forgotten. That's what we fear the most, being forgotten." He kept mumbling to himself as he floated back through the wall.

James looked after with a soft expression. He had never thought about it that way, that the ghosts were an important part of the society in the school. However, when he thought about it, it made sense. The ghosts were always the first to greet the new students and they made them come at ease with the school. They were funny and helpful.

James bit his lip _. I don't want to be forgotten either_ , he thought.  _Perhaps being a ghost for the rest of eternity isn't that bad after all_. Not when he had friends. Not when he could help in his own small way.  _I'd never seen Lily again_ , though.  _Or my parents. Not Sirius nor Harry. Or anyone else_. He looked down, the thoughts heavy on his mind as he walked. Without realizing it, his feet had brought him back to the Gryffindor tower. It had become a habit, not that he minded. He went through the painting of the fat lady and into the common room. A quick look around showed him laughing children playing Exploding Snap.

Just as he was looking, they blew up on a poor lad's face. It was now black with ashes. Calmer, older students sat by the fireplace on the couch. Some were talking, others were reading books or doing homework. However, there were no sight of Harry, so James continued into the boy's dorm. There was a few boys sitting on their beds, talking with hushed voices. James paid no attention to them. He found Harry just were he had left him: On the bed with a black, leather book on his lap. James sighed. Not that thing again. There was something strange going on with that book. It was not an ordinary diary, he was sure of it. Everyday Harry would spend more and more time writing in it. And every day, Harry was more exhausted. Dark rings shadowed his eyes, and his dazzling green eyes looked faded. James didn't like it one bit.

He sat down on the bed next to him.

"Harry?" He mumbled softly. Harry didn't look up. He was too engrossed in the book. Grinning at something that was written. James sighed. There was something wrong. Harry could usually sense him when he was near. The boy would glance at him; give him a grin or a soft smile. However, lately he hadn't seem to be able to sense him at all . James felt lonelier than ever _. It's that blasted diary. It's doing something to Harry_. He'd tried to get rid of it, but he couldn't touch it.

After a while, Harry yawned, dropped the pen and rubbed his eyes. He looked tired. The boy shuffled around a little before rising from the bed. James glanced at him as he walked to the bathroom, before looking down on the book. He leaned over it, trying to read it, but there was nothing on the page. James narrowed his gaze. The letters written disappeared at once. 'Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain' a friend of his used to say. He agreed with her. This thing was not to be trusted.

"I don't know what you are, but I'm not letting you harm my son," he hissed. James picked up the pencil and wrote on the page:  ** _stay away from my son_**. The words disappeared. James nodded satisfied and leaned back. Now that was taken care of. He was wrong. A few seconds later three words appeared in the book.

**_Who are you?_ **

James scowled; however, his curiosity was peeked.

He wrote:  ** _None of your damn business._**

The book didn't answer. James smirked.  _And now stay silent_. He hoped it wouldn't bother Harry anymore. Again, he thought too soon.

 ** _I'm Tom Marvolo Riddle, pleasant to meet you_**.

James raised an eyebrow.  _'A smart ass, ey_?' He picked up the pencil again.

**_What are you?_ **

The letters disappeared, and was replaced a moment later. The words were slow to appear, almost like if the writer behind them was hesitating.

**_It's difficult to explain. Why don't you let me show you?_ **

James knitted his eyebrows together.  _'Show me?,_ ' he thought,  _'what does that mean?_ ' He leaned over the book again.

 ** _'What do you_** -," he started to write. He didn't get any further. Suddenly there was a bright light erupting from the book. Hands made of ink and words erupted from the pages. James had no time to react, before the hands wrapped around him. He screamed. Where they touched him, it burned. The arms started to drag him closer to the book. James struggled and fought, but they tightened their grip. Then all he could feel was pain, so strong that he saw flashes under his eyelids.

"Harry!" he screamed in anguish. The hands froze for a second, before starting to slither around him, under his shirt, tearing at his flesh. Half a dozen hands wrapped themselves tighter around him. They had his arms, feet, chest, and they were pulling, like if they were trying to dethatch them. James screamed again. It hurt. The second time since he died he could feel pain. It was not a feeling he had missed. The arms were pinning him down on the bed: he couldn't move. As he tried to scream again, one of them wrapped itself over his mouth. The scream came out as a muffled moan. James couldn't think. His mind was overcome by terror and fright, he couldn't have struggled even if he wanted to as the hands dragged him into the book.

...

All he could feel was pain and terror. Flashes of colours and random pictures flashed through the room. If it was a room. He was floating in space. Then pain again. He arched his body, a silent scream trying to escape from his throat, but he had no voice.

' _Please_ ,' he thought,  _'please stop_.' He didn't know how long he had been there. Hours could have passed, days, weeks, or only mere minutes: he didn't know. After a while, the pain subsided and turned into a more burning sensation. James gasped for air, a reflects: his lungs hadn't worked for years. He opened his eyes, closed them again. There was no difference. Open or closed he could only see the flashes of colours, lights and random pictures. He opened them again, wriggled his body, and floated towards the closest picture. The moment he looked at it, it started to move.

...

_A little boy with black hair and dark eyes sat alone in a corner. All around him kids laughed and smiled at each other. They traded gifts, toys and food. The only one who didn't look like he was enjoying himself was the dark-haired boy. By his feet laid an unopened gift. It had no name-label. Now and again, some of the other kids would glance at him, before turning around quickly, pretending that they didn't see them. All the other kids ignored him and stood in a half-circle away from him, so as not to get to close._

_'Alright kids!' A clear voice called out. The children turned towards the young woman who had talked. She had blond hair in two ponytails, a red long dress and soft, happy, blue eyes. "It's time for a Christmas carol. What song would you guys like to sing?"_

_Several options were called. The woman nodded happily at them. "Deck the Halls it is then." She held her hands out and the closest grabbed her hands. Soon they had formed a circle around the Christmas tree and was singing loudly._

_No one approached the boy in the corner. The dark-haired boy looked at them with an expressionless face. If you looked closely though, you could see pain and loneliness in his clear-blue eyes. No one looked close enough to notice. Half way through the second song, he sighed and looked down. With shivering hands, he carefully picked up the present. It had a blue wrapper, with white dots on. A yellow ribbon was attached around the rectangular present. Almost tenderly he pulled the treads apart. It fell away easy. With a glance at the singing children, he quickly unwrapped the wrapper. He froze as the cloth fell apart to reveal the treasure within. It was a porcelain doll. Her skin was pale and spotless. She had big, green, glassy eyes. Wavy light hair framed her face. She wore a pink dress and small, golden shoes. The boy picked the doll up carefully. He held her with a hand around her neck, the other one holding up the weight of the body._

_"She is beautiful!" The boy looked up startled. A little girl, perhaps five or six years old. She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. She looked at the porcelain doll with amazement. '"Do you want to trade? I have a car to trade with if you'd like. Or gum!" She looked curiously at him. The boy stared at her for a few seconds. As if he was trying to see if she was lying or tricking him. After a few seconds, he nodded._

_"Alright."_

_The little girl beamed. "Thanks! Say what, you can have the car and the bubble gum."_

_The boy gave a small smile, and held the doll out. Just as she was going to take it, he pressed his grip around the doll's head. The smooth porcelain cracked under his fingers. The girl froze. Her eyes widened, this time with tears and fright._

_"You. You monster!" With a sob she turned around and ran out of the room. The dark haired boy watched her leave, with a small malicious smile on his lips. It disappeared slowly when the little girl was out of sight. He looked down on the broken doll in his hands. For a few seconds he stared sadly down at her. The expression disappeared, and he threw the doll away with disgust._

...

"I remember that day. I was seven years old."

James looked away from the scene startled. Across him stood a teenager. Sixteen or seventeen at age, James couldn't tell. He looked more mature, skinnier and strong. Nothing like the chubby child in the picture. No, in the memory. However, he had the same clear-blue eyes, avoided with emotions.

"That was you?" The ghost looked back, but the picture was gone: another picture had taken it's place. James looked back at the boy.

"I assume you are Tom Marvolo Riddle."

The teenager lips curled upwards.

"That is me, yes." Tom floated closer. "Who are you?"

James crossed his arms. "Can't tell you that, boy." Tom froze, anger twisting his otherwise angelic face. The emotion disappeared a second later.

"Sooth yourself then." He waved a hand dismissive, his face smooth and expressionless. "But tell me this. You asked me earlier 'what am I'. That is a question I would very much like to ask you." His eyes searched James curiously, trying to reveal his secrets. "I do not know how you got here, sir. My intention was to show you a scene, not pull you into the book. I didn't even know that was possible."

James knitted his eyebrows together. "That wasn't you? I thought you were attacking me."

Tom chuckled softly and shook his head. "No, where would that get me? Can't risk anyone putting me on fire, can I?" Again, his lip curled upwards in a dry smile. "But no. I didn't know the book could do that." He frowned and muttered under his breath. "It must be the curse."

James didn't ask him to elaborate. "Well. How do I get out?"

Tom's attention snapped back at him. He raised an eyebrow. "Out? There is no way to get out. This is a diary: created by magic. I'm simply an image, a memory of the true Tom Riddle." The teen's eye burned into his. "That takes me back to my question. What are you?"

James sighed and ruffled his head. "Honestly? I got no clue. I've been trying to find that out for years. Sorry I don't have a better answer for you. But I really don't know."

Tom looked thoughtful. "This is a mystery indeed. Good thing we have a long time to figure that out." The teen grinned as James groaned.

"Super," he mumbled, "just super."

Tom was an interesting lad. There wasn't much to do in this place but to talk and look through Tom's memories. The teen didn't mind, he seemed just as fascinated with James. Time was hard to count. He had no idea how long he had been here, but he wasn't too worried. Every time he wondered, Tom would tell him how Harry was doing. Sometimes he would share with James what Harry had been writing. He knew he should be more worried, being trapped in a book like this, but he couldn't muster enough energy to do so. For the first time in a decade couldn't feel the pull of the otherworld. He felt safe, and dared he say it, content. Whenever he felt lonely he could track Tom down, and they would talk about everything and nothing. Tom would ask him about the world outside and about James' life. He was careful not to reveal too much, he did not trust the man. James would ask Tom about his. Some time they would speculate about their existence. After a while James started to grow found of the teen. He had not been able to talk like this to anyone. He never had enough time with Sirius, and he didn't want to worry his friend too much.

One day James found Tom looking at a picture. It was a picture ofHogwarts, and the teen looked longingly at it. At times he would a hand to the picture, only to retreat it before he touched it.

"What's on your mind, lad?"

Tom didn't answer at once. For a long while they stood staring at the picture. They had all the time in the world. Tom would talk when he was ready. James spent the time studying the picture. The lake was frozen, and so tiny people were scatted across, ice-skating. It looked cold, but no snow had settled yet.  _'Early November perhaps_ ," the spirit mused.

"James?" James almost jumped as the dark-haired teen talked. He had forgotten about him for a second. He looked at him.

"Yeah?"

Tom hesitated, before blurting out. "I think I've found a way out. For us to get out of this book, I mean."

Now he had all of James' attention. "You found a loophole?"

Tom smiled drily. "Something like that." His gaze drifted back to the picture. James kept staring at him.

"How are you going to live without a body? You are just a memory of a real person. No offence."

Tom waved a hand. "None taken. I have thought about it a lot. And I think I've found a solution." He turned around to stare at James again. His clear-blue eyes burning into James'. "I can give you a body, James. One where you can move around, touch things, smell them, even eat again!"

James gaped. "Y-you can d-do that? That's brilliant!"

Tom nodded, his eyes drifting back to the picture once more.

"But how? How can you do that? I've never heard of such a spell. How does it work?

"Don't worry about it, my friend. I'm certain it will work. I'll do all the preparation, just be ready to leave when the time comes." Tom patted his shoulder and left. The spirit licked his lip. Was there really a way to get his body back? He hadn't thought it was possible. However, he knew Tom was a bright boy, had been a bright boy, whatever it. It was so confusing. He shook his head. If someone can find a way, it has to be Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as far as I've written. If I'll ever come back to the story I don't know. Don't think so.


End file.
